The Art of Immortality
by Dusty273
Summary: Buffy has fallen in love with the work of an up and coming artist that has taken the world of art by storm. When presented with a rare opportunity to attend a private showing of his latest works, she accepts. Detailed summary inside.
1. Chapter 1 Impressionism

**The Art of Immortality**

By Dusty 273 (Mari)

Summary: Buffy has fallen in love with the work of an up and coming artist that has taken the world of art by storm… William Wellington, a known recluse. When presented with a rare opportunity to attend a private showing of his latest works, she accepts. As her evening unfolds, she meets a handsome, sophisticated stranger who harbors many dark and dangerous secrets. Her strong attraction for the mysterious man coupled with an unexpected gift changes the course of her life in a way she never could have imagined in her wildest of dreams.

Rating: PG-13 (Up to NC-17)

Warnings: Sexual situations, Biting/Claiming, Violence

Disclaimer: The characters from Buffy the Vampire Slayer are owned by Joss Whedon, Mutant Enemy, and Fox studios. This story is not meant to infringe upon anyone's rights, only to entertain.

A/N: I have to warn you that this is not my usual writing style but my muse wanted to experiment, so I beg your patience and forgiveness for any fall-outs I might have.

That said, I want to thank my lovely friend and beta, ImbloodyEnglish, for keeping me going even if there are times I feel like I'm way over my head with this, for your advice and for being there for me whenever I've needed you. I truly couldn't do this without your help, sweetie. smooches Thanks to Marzbar for the quick edit and Tammy and Kitty, for reading it and reassuring me that this wasn't as bad as I thought it was.

Chapter 1. Impressionism

He was drawn to her like a moth to the flame. Nay, more like Icarus to the sun. She was too luminous—too radiant—to be compared to a mere flame. Would he suffer the same fate if he dared come close to her? Would his wax wings melt as Icarus' did before he fell to his death? Or perhaps her light would burn him until he was dust or somehow chase away the shadows that surrounded him?

His fingers itched to thread through her hair, to feel if it was as silky up close as it looked from afar. His hands longed to caress her skin and slowly uncover each and every one of the secrets of her body. His eyes lingered on her beautiful face, trying to imagine what color her eyes might be, wondering if their shade would deepen when aroused with passion or fury. However, tempted as he was to find out, he was reticent to sully her innocence with his darkness.

Yes, he was aware he was a vampire and he shouldn't care if he sullied her one way or another. It was in his nature to be evil… or should be, at least. He'd never been too conventional though, neither as a human nor as a vampire. Even more so, he'd never felt as drawn to anyone as much as for this magnificent creature standing across the room and for once he knew it had little to do with bloodlust or lust of another flavor. No, it ran deeper, deeper than he ever imagined it could. Deep into those recesses of where his soul and heart would reside were he actually alive, the same ones he'd thought were long dead along with him. How was it possible to feel this alive again just by looking at her? And if just doing that made him feel like this, whatever would it do to be near her, holding her in his arms, kissing her, smelling her, feeling her?

He noticed as a man approached **her** and handed her a crystal goblet with what appeared to be wine and he couldn't suppress the possessive growl that crawled up his throat. The people nearby looked at him with a strange blend of curiosity, tempered down by fear. Any other time smelling that fear would've been intoxicating for his demon, but now, today, this night, it was too focused on the golden goddess that he couldn't stop watching to care.

His stance tensed as he intently observed his girl's interaction with the overgrown boy and promptly relaxed when he realized that she wasn't interested in him. It was perfectly clear to anyone that cared to notice, except for the daft oaf it seemed.

He knew many of the people that were attending his exhibit tonight were doing it out of curiosity rather than because they truly liked his work. The man standing next to her was one of those. Yet, for as many so-called experts that care little about art but more about how much money they could make from it, there were the odd few that came here for the art itself. And **she** was one of those odd few, he was as sure of that as he was that he didn't need to breathe to live. He reveled on the rapt attention she paid to each of his paintings, as she gazed at them almost as reverently as he was looking her.

She stopped a few paces before reaching what he considered his master piece, the one painting in which he'd poured the soul he wasn't supposed to have, and held an unneeded breath while waiting for her reaction.

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Buffy Summers was bored to tears and they hadn't even made it to the salon yet. Not that she was surprised. There was a reason why she hadn't accepted any dates with Riley Finn the thousand times he'd asked before, he wasn't—and never would be—what she considered 'boyfriend' or even 'potential date' material. There was absolutely no chemistry between them, at all. What was more, if it weren't for the fact that Riley and her mother had maintained a commercial relationship between their galleries before her untimely death last year she never would've continued their tentative friendship, if it could even be called that.

However, he seemed to think differently and kept inviting her every time their paths crossed, which with her living in California and him in London very seldom happened, thank God! She'd tried to let him down kindly, but the boorish idiot didn't seem to take the hint. It didn't matter how many times she'd turned him down, he kept insisting and insisting and insisting, until he finally presented her with an invitation she couldn't refuse.

She'd been in London for less than a week when Riley told her of this very exclusive event he'd been invited to. He'd known, of course, that she'd do just about anything short of murdering someone to attend this function, even if it meant that she had to go with him to said event. And he'd been right, damn him!

She almost regretted being so vocal in her praise when she'd discovered William Wellington's work in an art magazine at Riley's gallery. Almost. Because if she hadn't she wouldn't be here about to witness the first—and probably the last, if one could give credit to anything Riley said—art exhibit of said artist. He was a recluse, the magazine had claimed, a very private thirty-something man with an amazing gift for painting landscapes and portraits that seemed to come to life when one saw them in person. God, it seemed that way when she saw them in the magazine, she could only imagine how much better it would be to see them up close and personal. Loving art as much as she did, there was absolutely no way she would miss on doing just that, even if she had to endure Riley Finn's company to what promised to be the event of the year, hell, probably of the decade.

So, she dressed up accordingly to what he'd told her was expected for his 'date', spending more than she'd planned on a beautiful jade green evening gown that complimented her beauty perfectly, or so Riley claimed, even if she truly didn't care what he or anyone else said about her. She simply didn't want to be thrown out of the very private and exclusive affair for not 'measuring up' to the Academy's standards. However, having to endure the supreme boredom that was Riley Finn and his unwanted comments and attentions, almost made her regret agreeing to come to the exhibit altogether.

She forgot about any regrets and Riley, though, as she stood completely transfixed at the entrance of the Royal Academy of Arts main salon. She'd been here once before with her mother a few years ago, but she could hardly reconcile the image that she held in her memories to the one she was seeing at the moment. The room had been completely transformed to compliment the art exhibit, giving it a surreal ambiance. She felt as if she were stepping into one of the many paintings that decorated the walls, which very probably had been the reason for the decor. So entranced was she with her surroundings, that she barely even acknowledged her escort as he moved them further into the room and left her there before mumbling something about greeting some of the Academy members, saying he'd be right back. She just waved her hand dismissively at him, hoping that with any luck he'd be monopolized the rest of the night by them so she could get lost in the magnificent landscapes and portraits in display without him interrupting her.

Fascinated, she walked around the room. Each and every one of the paintings was a masterpiece in itself and she still could hardly believe the artist wasn't that well known outside this rather exclusive circle of connoisseurs or that he was as young as the magazine had claimed. His work talked of a depth and experience that went well beyond his years.

"Are you enjoying the display, Buffy?" a voice whispered in her ear, making her shudder in something akin to revulsion as she noticed who it was behind her.

She'd been so absorbed by the display that she hadn't seen or heard him sneak up on her. Trying to hide her disappointment at the fact that he'd joined her, she turned around and found Riley looking all pleased with himself as he held two glasses of wine. Couldn't he have stayed away for the rest of the night and let her enjoy the exhibit? She rolled her eyes, just her luck, it seemed he couldn't.

She forced a smile and took the wine from his hand, as she chanted in her mind: _'I have to be polite, I have to be polite.'_ After all, it wouldn't do to make a scene and be thrown out of the exhibit when she still had about half of the paintings left to see, would it? God, what she would give to be able to act on her impulses and punch him in the gut, since there was no way she'd reach his nose. Bummer, being short sucked big time. She sighed dejectedly, before pasting on the most saccharine smile she could stomach at the time.

"Very much so," she replied, turning her back at him and toward the display as she sipped the alcohol, ignoring him in what she hoped was a polite way, praying he got the message she wanted to continue viewing the exhibit on her own. No such luck, however, as he fell into step at her side when she walked away. She rolled her eyes and sighed heavily. Was it worth it? Then she saw another of the marvelous paintings before her and responded to herself, yes, yes, it surely was.

She felt a tingle on the back of her neck, the same feeling she always got when someone was watching her. As surreptitiously as she could she scanned the room. No one seemed to be paying attention to her, though. It wasn't until her eyes swept the room a second time that she noticed a man on the other side of the crowd who seemed to be staring at her. She shuddered again, this time with something that had nothing to do with revulsion and a lot to do with the magnetism that emanated from the man that hadn't stopped looking at her when she stared back. She couldn't discern which color his eyes were from so far away, but they were mesmerizing, holding her in some kind of strange trance that took her to a place where only they existed.

He was dressed in a tux like all the other men attending the event, but somehow he stood out. He was different from anyone else here, from the top of his bleached white curls—_because there's no way that was the natural color of his hair_—to the deliciously sharp cheekbones and the lean body that his suit couldn't hide down to the tip of his shoes. She felt he wasn't here to flaunt his social status or to be able to say that he'd attended the event of the year. No, he was here for the art, just like she was. She couldn't say how she knew, she just did.

Just then someone bumped into her, almost making her drop her glass. Reluctantly she tore her eyes away from those of the mysterious man and twisted to one side to see who had dared interrupt her stare-fest and almost growled when the elegant woman that had almost knocked her down hardly even acknowledged her, let alone apologize before continuing on her merry way. Damned snobby people that thought they were better than everyone else.

More than a bit miffed for the disruption, she pivoted on her heel to face her handsome stranger again only to find he wasn't there any more. She surveyed the crowded salon trying to find him, but it seemed as if he'd disappeared into thin air. Where was he? Logically she knew nothing could ever come from it but that didn't mean that she couldn't enjoy the odd sense of connection she'd felt with the man or the way the world seemed to disappear as they got lost in each other's eyes, did it? She had the right to daydream, dammit and boy, if he wasn't dream-worthy material. Disappointed, she sighed and glanced to her side to find Riley talking animatedly with a short guy. Oh well, at least he was entertained and not bothering her, so she turned back to the painting she'd been looking at before.

-------------

He should've walked away when he had the chance. He didn't though and now he was lost. He should've left as soon as she started to scan the room, but he didn't. Now it was too late, her eyes were fixed on him and from across the room an electrical undercurrent seemed to flow between them and he knew he was completely and irrevocably lost.

He had to meet her, needed to find out what she thought of his work even if she would never know he was the artist. He just needed to hear from her lips what he had seen in her posture, in her gestures, in her eyes. He needed to be close to her, inhale her scent, know the color of her eyes, discover the sound of her voice as it rang in his ears, how her face lit when she smiled at him, find out if her radiance could burn him from within as soon as he reached her side or if it would warm him up just enough to make him feel alive again for a brief moment. He wanted to commit it all to his memory if that was all that he'd ever have of her.

When a woman almost fell over her and she took her eyes away from his, he decided to make his move, melting into the shadows while beckoning his assistant who hurried to his side. After a brief exchange with his loyal assistant, he waited as the one thing standing between him and his golden goddess was removed as the annoying nuisance he was.

He would have been more angry about the interruption—and the fact that the woman had bumped into **her**—if it weren't that it provided him with the perfect opportunity to get near her without her noticing. He preferred to have the element of surprise, the chance to gather his bearings before approaching her. If she had affected him this much from afar, how would it be when she was so close that he just had to extend his hand to touch her? That he just had to take an unneeded breath to inhale her scent? Yes, surprising her was a good idea. That way it would be easier for him to gauge her reaction to him, to see if it was the same as it had been when they had been gazing at each other from across the room. Not that anything could ever come out of this, he was aware of that. But even a vampire could dream, couldn't he? He just had to make it so that tonight lasted him for an eternity without her.

He held his unneeded breath as he observed from his vantage point how the big oaf responded to what Jonathan was telling him and couldn't hide the smirk that bloomed on his lips when, just as he'd planned, the enormous hall monitor followed his assistant after throwing nothing more than a fleeting glance to his 'date'. Not that she'd cared, that was pretty obvious since she didn't take her eyes away from his painting.

With feline grace, he crossed the room until he was standing behind her. He was nervous, even more so than he'd ever been while human. What was it about this tiny slip of a woman that brought out the shy Victorian gentleman that he'd buried so many years ago? He was a Master Vampire for Christsakes not the fumbling artist and poet he'd been then.

Unable to contain himself he leaned closer to her, feeling the heat that emanated from her body and inhaled her scent for the first time. Vanilla, with a touch of something that had to be uniquely her. Needing to find out if everything about her was as appealing as the few things he'd discovered already, he daringly whispered in her ear, "Are you enjoyin' the display?"

tbc

I know it's not exactly Fantasy/All Human, but there was no other category I felt it could be included in.

I'm really nervous over this story, so if you could let me know what you thought of it, I'd be very thankful.


	2. Chapter 2 Constructivism

A huge thank you to Lissa, maharet97, unafraid666 and J, for reviewing the first chapter. I didn't expect the response I got over this story and I'm floored by your kindness. I just hope I don't disappoint with the follow-up. As always thank you to my lovely friend, ImbloodyEnglish, for betaing this chapter for me, helping me plot the rest of the story and keeping me in line. ;) Luv you, sweetie! smooches And a special thank you to MarzBar and Tammy for the read-through.

_Chapter 2. Constructivism_

"Are you enjoyin' the display?" Spike asked, waiting impatiently for her to face him so he could finally learn the color of her eyes.

She shivered when a deep husky voice rumbled in her ear. She knew it was **him** and was at the same time both excited and scared of turning around.

Her heart thundered in her chest and sent her pulse racing in her veins at the very thought and that wouldn't do. She refused to appear like an infatuated teenager in front of someone who obviously was a very sophisticated man. Standing tall, she inhaled deeply to gather her bearings before facing the man behind the voice and confirming her suspicions.

Sure as she'd been that it was him, she almost couldn't give credit to her eyes when she saw him standing in front of her. The glimpse of him from across the room hadn't prepared her at all for the impact of his presence, the way his eyes bore into hers until she felt he could see inside her very soul, the way he made the world disappear so there was just the two of them in the room.

He was rendered breathless—or would have if he were capable of breathing—by the sheer beauty of the most delicate pixie face he'd ever seen. And her eyes, a man could drown in those emerald green eyes. He'd thought she was beautiful from afar, however, now that she was in front of him, facing him, that he could study each and every one of her features and commit them to memory, he realized she was nothing short of a goddess.

"Y-yes," she answered, wishing she could kick herself for showing how much he affected her before clearing her throat and continuing with more certainty in her tone. "Yes, I'm enjoying it very much, Mr., err…"

"Where are my manners? My name is Spike James. Pleased to make your acquaintance, Miss…"

"Elizabeth Summers, but please, call me Buffy."

"Buffy," he repeated, savoring the name in his mouth as if it were the finest of wines while taking her hand in his, his long fingers gliding sensuously over her wrist as he did, feeling her pulse run wildly in her veins, before bringing it up to his mouth. He kissed it, caressing her soft skin with his lips for what felt like an eternity though it couldn't have been more than a few seconds, wanting, needing to taste her in any way he could. He rejoiced in her sharp intake of breath, in the way her heart skipped a beat at his actions and in the faint aroma of her arousal that left him with little doubt his attentions were not as un-welcomed as those of her 'escort'.

Her knees buckled and she almost swooned when he took her hand in his and then to his mouth, kissing it without taking his eyes off hers. She could scarcely believe her body's response. With the most innocent of gestures, he'd made her feel more than Riley Finn, or anyone else for that matter, ever had. What that gesture elicited in her though was anything but innocent. His hand felt cold as it held hers, but his lips burned a fiery path through her skin and into her blood igniting a flame of desire.

She shuddered under his unwavering gaze suddenly uncomfortable with the way he was making her feel. She managed to look away, trying to focus elsewhere and blushed. Lowering her eyes to the floor, she wished the earth would open up and swallow her whole as she realized that several people were watching their exchange quite intently.

He felt her shiver through their connection, wondering what, exactly, had caused it. Was it his intensity, the difference in their body temperatures or dare he hope, desire? '_Or perhaps, it could be that you completely forgot the fact you're in a room full of people who seem unable to mind their own business?'_ he asked himself while following her eyes as she glanced at those around them, before lowering them to the floor, her cheeks turning a lovely shade of red. He couldn't stop thinking how adorable she was even when embarrassed and how much he'd love to lose himself watching her in any way he could, if only... No, it wouldn't do to wish upon the impossible. He sighed regretfully, knowing he had no one to blame for this but himself and hoping he hadn't ruined his chance to spend some time with her as he released her hand.

He glared at the people that were still focused on them before saying, "Don't mind them, love, they're just envious." Relief coursed through him when she looked up at him.

"Envious?"

"That I'll have the honor of escortin' the most beautiful woman here throughout the rest of the exhibit and they don't." He smirked.

"Ha, I sincerely doubt that," she laughed. "I'm definitely not the most beautiful woman here or anywhere else."

He leaned in closer to her, whispering into her ear, "I think you are."

She blushed even more at that, her senses reeling from his nearness and the whiff of his scent that filled her nostrils. It was masculine, earthy and… powerful? Yes, that was it; the man exuded power from every pore of his body and that, combined with the smooth sophisticated aura that surrounded him, made for a lethal blend. What chance did she stand resisting his charm? There was no doubt he knew exactly what to say to make her melt, but her self-esteem dictated she make at least a token protest, "A-and anyway, don't I have a say on whether you'll escort me or not?"

"By all means," he conceded. "Miss Summers, would you allow me the honor of escortin' you throughout the rest of the exhibit?" He offered her his arm, leaving her the choice of accepting his offer or not.

"Well, since you asked so nicely, yes, of course, I would love that," she replied. "Especially since my escort seems to have disappeared on me, not that he'd be missed or anything."

'_Hmmm, is it me or does she want me to know she's not interested in the bloke?'_ he mused.

She smiled at him as she took his arm and he forgot about her escort or what she'd meant by her last comment. He felt as if the sun had illuminated him with its rays for the first time in forever. It had been so long since he'd been this close to a woman he felt an attraction for. And she attracted him like nothing had ever attracted him before.

Spike smiled back at her as he guided her to the next painting on display. It was his favorite, his masterpiece, and he waited impatiently for her reaction, knowing it would cement or destroy the illusion of this night, the emotion of sharing his work for the first time with the world, with her.

"Now, tell me, what do you think of this piece?"

She gasped as her eyes settled on the landscape. It was the most captivating piece of art she'd ever seen in her life. It went beyond the fact that it was beautifully done, that every stroke, color and shade made the painting seem as if all you had to do was extend your hand and you'd enter through it and into a magical world where anything was possible. It was so much more than that. It felt as if the artist had poured his very soul into it, as if she felt what he'd felt while painting it. Knowing Spike was waiting for her answer, she whispered reverentially, "It's beautiful."

Pride swelled inside his chest over her answer, but most of all, over her reaction. It was all he could have hoped for and more, so much more. He had been right about her. He was about to ask if the painting told her anything, when she continued.

"It's just like… I'm not sure how to express it, I'm not too good with words, but it's not only that the artist managed to make the painting live, thrive and breathe through his strokes and sense of color. It's not only that I feel like I could step into the painting and enter this fantastic place where possibilities are endless. No, it's more than that; he poured his soul into it. I can sense his love for this place, his passion for everything that it represents, even his… loneliness." Her brow furrowed as she said this. "Don't ask me how because I can't explain it, I just **know** that even if all his other works are important to him as an artist, this is… the one."

"Th-the one?" he asked, clearing his suddenly very dry throat.

"Yes, the one piece that the artist just couldn't part with because it would be like parting from his own soul."

He was speechless for a moment, thinking about everything she'd just said. She understood. She truly did. All those things she'd sensed, his love for his home, his passion for everything that surrounded it and above of all, his loneliness. The loneliness that was ever present in his mind as he worked on this particular piece. As a general rule, he didn't wallow in the fact that he felt lonely. He'd made that decision a long time ago, and although it was hard to keep at times, it allowed him to live at peace with himself and the few chosen mortals with whom he rarely interacted. His resolution had never weighed so heavily on his shoulders until this precise moment, though, when he'd finally met her.

Yes, he considered this particular painting to be his masterpiece... one of the many he still expected to create. As a true artist, he'd been waiting, waiting and searching for the perfect subject matter, one worthy of his genius, worthy of turning into his obsession. The one... that when he laid his talent on the canvas, he could pour his soul into capturing its essence with brush and oil but his entire being, until it became the finished product that ultimately would be his magnum opus.

Who knew? Even she could turn out to be the subject of his next masterpiece, although he doubted he had the necessary skills to recreate something that even resembled her radiance.

"It's truly a shame that this piece isn't on sale. Although, considering the prices being asked for some of the other paintings, it would surely be out of my budget anyway."

She smiled at him, but the forlorn look of want in her eyes couldn't be mistaken. She was genuinely sorry that she couldn't own it.

Spike took a decision right then and there. Regardless of the fact he would never see her again after tonight, he was sure of one thing, she was 'the one'. He'd come to this exhibition more out of curiosity than anything else. He'd wanted to know how his work would be appraised by the group of so-called connoisseurs and at least, until he met Buffy, he'd been gravely disappointed. None of them understood or appreciated his paintings, not the way he wanted them to. They only cared about their monetary value, she didn't. She wanted it because it meant something to her, because she understood what he felt when he'd painted it, because in some measure he'd made her feel what he felt while she looked at it. In a room full of people, only she understood. That made her the only one worthy of owning it. And she would, before he left tonight he'd make sure she did.

"I think the artist might be inclined to sh—" Spike was rudely interrupted from commenting when her boorish excuse for an escort reappeared, settling himself between the two of them without even excusing himself or acknowledging his presence. His eyes flashed yellow for an instant, his anger escalating because of the man's behavior before reining it in. It wouldn't do to let his demon loose in a place like this and there were other ways to get what he wanted. Much more effective ways, he smiled evilly.

"Riley? What…" Buffy blinked in surprise when he appeared from out of nowhere. She'd been so focused on the painting and the handsome stranger currently escorting her that she'd forgotten all about him.

"I really don't know what you see in these!" He motioned to the painting she and Spike had been discussing, without giving a damn if anyone else heard him or not. "And let's not start talking about the outrageous prices they're asking for them either. I was invited to a private bidding for a few of these pieces, but really, I don't know if I want to spend that much money on something that's not truly worth it, I don't care how much I could resell them for. It's a question of principle."

Question of principle? Was he insane? She wished she had the money to buy at least one of these magnificent pieces and here he was saying they weren't worth it? Argh, the nerve of the man! No wonder she never felt inclined to give him half a chance. She was about to give him a piece of her mind when she saw him turn his back on her and lean in to listen to whatever Spike was telling him.

Spike had heard more than enough. He could care less what this man thought of his paintings but what little he could see of her reaction with the overgrown boy's body between them, he was making Buffy uncomfortable and… dare he say, angry? He moved a little to the right to have a clearer view of her. Yes, her lovely green eyes sparkled with what could only be barely-contained fury and even if he'd thought it impossible before, she looked even more gorgeous now than when she'd been describing his painting. He wondered for a second if her eyes shone like that too when they were ablaze with passion, before shaking his head. He'd never find out. He wasn't going to see her again after tonight so it was best not to go down that path.

Deciding to intervene and get rid of the man at least for the time it would take them to finish viewing the exhibit, he tapped him on the shoulder, waiting until he turned before looking deeply into his eyes, concentrating his thoughts and energy into them while his own eyes flashed yellow once more. As he felt the man fall under his control, he beckoned him to lean closer so he could whisper in his ear, "Think you should go back to that auction, mate, and bid on those paintings until you win all of them. Considerin' you were invited to this event, I'm quite sure you have more than enough money for that, don't you?" He smirked as the man nodded numbly before leaving them without a backward glance. He wiped the satisfying smile from his lips when he felt Buffy's incredulous gaze turn on him. "What?" he asked, his face a study in innocence.

"How—you know what, forget it. The important thing is that you got rid of him. Believe me, if you hadn't I'm not sure what I might have said."

_'Feisty little thing, aren't you?'_ "Ah, I see. You're… with him?"

"With him? As in my boyfriend? Oh God no, I don't have a boyfriend, he's just a business contact. I won't lie to you, he wants us to be more than that, but there's nothing there, at least on my side," Buffy hurried to explain. "I inherited my mother's gallery in the States and he was her contact here in London. Since I don't know anyone, I continued our business relationship, but after that little display you just witnessed, I'll be looking for another person with whom I have more in common as soon as I get back to The Mandeville where I'm staying." She looked at him from beneath her lashes, hoping she hadn't scared him by coming on too strongly, but unable to resist herself. She liked him, even if he hadn't said much… yet. The night was… well, maybe not as young as a little while ago, but they still had time, or so she hoped.

She was interested in him, of that he was certain. Should he allow himself to pretend he was someone else? Could he, if only for tonight, be just a man interested in a woman and not the reclusive creature of the night that he truly was? He'd lived in the obscurity that his eternal life had turned into for what seemed like centuries, with the only company of his paintings and the few people he trusted enough to work for him. Who could blame him for desiring to experience the warmth that her mere presence elicited in him for as long as possible? Yes, he could do that. He could indulge in the fantasy of not having to be alone any longer, of being with someone that understood him and who he could talk to without fear of her discovering what he truly was, even if it was for just a few minutes. However long the time they had left was, it would suffice to construct a beautiful memory he could carry with him always. The memory of what could have been were he anyone other than himself.

"Well then, shall we continue with the exhibit so I can persuade you to tell me more about yourself, love? Who knows? Perhaps I know of someone you would have more in common with than your... non-boyfriend." He winked at her, offering his arm once more, delighting in the way her heart sped up before taking it as they walked towards the next piece on display.

He called her love again and wanted to know more about her? Was he flirting with her? Oh God, she hoped so. "Okay, but only if you tell me about yourself, too. After all, you already know more about me than I know about you."

"I'm not that interesting, sweetheart... however, fair is fair. What would you like to know about me?"

Not that interesting? Her eyes raked over his lean form as furtively as she could. Somehow she doubted that was true. "Hmmm, let's see… I'm curious, what is a man like you **really** doing at an exhibit like this? I mean, it doesn't seem like the type of place you would frequent. Most of the people here seem far less interested in the art than they are in being seen here. You, however, appear to be one of the few that came to admire these gorgeous paintings."

He felt the warmth spreading inside him at her choice of words. Why should he care if anyone else understood or even liked his work as long as she did? However, her question only confirmed what he'd suspected. She was perceptive, very perceptive and he should take care in what he said otherwise, she may uncover his secrets. "That's because art is my passion, my joie de vivre. I have no interest in the type of people I encounter at these events… tonight, though, is definitely an exception." He covered the feminine limb that rested on his arm delicately with his free hand, gazing into her emerald depths so as to leave her with no doubt he spoke of her.

She felt as if she couldn't breathe for a minute as she got lost in those bluer than blue eyes. There was no doubt in her mind now that he was flirting with her. And those eyes, those eyes could make an iceberg melt. What chance did an ordinary girl like her have to escape them unscathed? Not that she wanted to, escape was the furthest thing from her mind at the moment.

Without releasing his hold to her in any way, he led them towards the next painting. They continued talking amicably as they moved from one display to the other, discovering things about one other, realizing they had more in common than either imagined at first.

Buffy was in heaven, he hadn't relinquished his hold on her even after they resumed walking. The seemingly unconscious sweep of his thumb over her skin made her tremble with desire, wishing they were somewhere else rather than in a room full of people. She wanted this night to never end. Logically, she knew it was impossible, but logic had no place in her mind at the moment. He was without a doubt the most interesting, charming man she'd ever met and if he asked to see her again, she wouldn't hesitate to agree.

He hadn't, though, even remotely suggested that he'd like to see her again and they were already nearing the last of the pieces. Maybe he wasn't as interested in her as she'd thought? Maybe he was just too polite to leave her alone after asking to be her escort for the rest of the display?

As they neared the end of the exhibit, Spike withdrew a little inside himself, content with listening to her talk, interjecting the appropriate gestures or answers when needed as he realized that he had to put an end to this night.

He'd been nothing but a fool. He'd thought his plan was flawless. Spend time with her, pretend to be someone he hadn't been in forever and when the time came, leave with a barrage of memories to revere her by. Simple or so it should have been. He hadn't, however, taken into consideration that the longer he stayed at her side, the more he learned of her and basked in the radiance of her smile, the less he'd want to leave. He hadn't imagined that once he touched her, he wouldn't want to bring it to an end. He was ravenous for the warmth of her touch, captivated by the music of her voice, drawn to the purity of her soul. For as much as he'd love to keep her with him for the rest of eternity, he was well aware that he couldn't. He refused to contaminate her with the underlying darkness that resided in him. It didn't matter that he hadn't given in to the urges of his demon in what seemed like forever, that he was above that now, that he'd turned into a recluse so he could begin to atone for the sins of his past. The only thing that mattered was that he couldn't hurt her, or himself, by continuing with this charade.

Right on cue, he saw the overgrown boy reappear at the entrance of the salon. When she turned to see what garnered his attention, he took both her hands in his and, leaned in to deposit the sweetest of kisses on her cheek, before sighing regretfully, whispering, "Good night, my sweet girl. Don't forget me, I know I shan't forget you." With a last look full of longing, he turned and disappeared into the crowd.

"Wai—"

"Who was that?" Riley asked as he joined her, jealousy dripping from his tone.

"He was…" _'The one.'_ "Just someone I met tonight," she responded, not ready to share what Spike was to her with anyone, let alone Riley.

"He seemed awfully familiar with you."

"I imagine it must be the customary way for British men to say good-bye, I have seen it in movies. You should know though, you've lived here long enough." She shrugged, deciding it was time to change subjects. "And anyway, where were you?"

"I told you I was invited to a private bidding."

"Yes, but you also told me the paintings weren't worth the outrageous prices asked for them," she replied annoyed.

"Well, I changed my mind."

"You bought some of them?" she asked incredulously.

"Some? No, I bought the whole lot. You should have seen their faces, Buffy, the other bidders weren't happy when I outbid them all," he said smugly.

He bought the whole lot and outbid the other people interested? What was going on here? She recalled seeing Spike whisper something to him before he left them alone. Did he have anything to do with Riley's sudden change of heart? No, he couldn't have made Riley do something he didn't want to do, could he?

"Well, I think I'm ready to call it a night. How about you?"

"Yes, we can leave." She scanned the room once more, hoping to have another glimpse of Spike before leaving but it was of no use. It seemed he'd left already. Sighing sadly, she walked by Riley's side out of the room, refusing to take his proffered arm.

----------

He watched from the shadows as she talked with the odious man, waiting for a sign—any sign—that what had transpired between them had affected her as much as it affected him. And when he saw she didn't acknowledge the big oaf's extended arm, he wished he had the right to sweep her in his arms and carry her into the night. He couldn't though. He had to remember that, although with each passing second his reasoning seemed less and less founded.

When she left the salon, Spike turned to his assistant, Jonathan, who waited patiently at his side.

"I need you to do something for me, Jonathan," he said, before telling him in detail what he needed to do tomorrow as soon as the Royal Academy of Arts opened in the morning.

tbc

I truly hope I didn't disappoint with the follow-up of this first meeting. So, tell me what you thought of it, pretty please?


	3. Chapter 3 Expressionism

A huge thank you to J, Aethereal Dreams and Lissa, for reviewing the last chapter, it makes me very happy to know that you're enjoying this story. A million thanks to my lovely friend, ImbloodyEnglish, for all her help with this chapter. I'd truly be lost without you, darling. (huggles) And a special thank you to Tammy for the read-through.

_Chapter 3. Expressionism _

_The Mandeville Hotel, the next day_

Buffy glanced at the clock on her nightstand and groaned. It was well after ten already and while she didn't have anything planned for the day that couldn't be postponed, she should be getting up anyway.

Even if she truly didn't want to.

Sleep had evaded her until dawn and even with as tired as she'd been by then, it was a restless sleep, plagued with dreams featuring a handsome stranger with bluer than blue eyes. Be it that she were awake or asleep, her mind kept replaying their encounter over and over, twisting and turning it around, wishing she would have done this or that so the end result would have been different.

Sadly, many, if not all, of those dreams had been interrupted by the appearance of a certain idiot who seemed to think she was his property. She sighed, why couldn't she get rid of him once and for all? Other men would have quit by now, but not Riley Finn. He was completely clueless. It should be more than obvious to him that she'd never return his feelings. She hadn't before and now that she'd met Spike, the possibility of her ever being remotely interested in anything he—or anyone else, for that matter—had to offer had decreased exponentially. After all, why should she settle for someone she hardly thought of as even a friend, when a virtual stranger could make her feel so much more in just a few hours?

Well, she was wide awake now and since she didn't have anything better to do, no one said she couldn't daydream. Daydream that her night hadn't ended the way it did with Spike, that Riley had disappeared from the face of the earth and they hadn't been interrupted by anyone. It shouldn't be too hard to create a fantasy where things—for once—went exactly the way she would have liked them to. So what if her daydreams wouldn't be anything **but** dreams, unless Spike contacted her or by some miracle she managed to get ahold of him? No one, no one at all could take those away from her.

She found a more comfortable position on the huge bed, closed her eyes and concentrated until she saw him clearly in her mind. Until she felt the soft caress of his lips against her cheek; his fingers drawing intricate patterns over her skin which came alive under his touch. Her own hands traveled over the expanse of her body as she got lost in the fantasy, liquid fire coursing through her veins as the hum of desire grew.

_He had insisted on accompanying her to the hotel and then up to her room after the exhibit ended, convincing her by asking what kind of 'escort' would he be otherwise, that it was his job to guard her from any perils she might encounter on her way, from all the things that go bump in the night. Not that she'd needed any convincing whatsoever, but she wasn't about to let him know that. She wanted to be pursued, persuaded, wooed and seduced into a giving mood by him, making her surrender all the more sweeter. _

_As soon as they were inside her room though, the mood changed… when being as close as possible to him took precedence over anything else. _

_Ever the gentleman, he readily helped her remove her shawl, his cold fingers lingering on the skin of her shoulders and back as he did. Shivers ran up and down her spine from his touch. Her breath hitched in her throat as she waited for his next move. _

_He leaned down, his lips mapping the back of her neck while his hands drifted over her shoulders, caressing her arms slowly on their way down to her waist before pulling her against him until she felt the hard evidence of his arousal in the crease of her backside. _

_She gasped in surprise when he suddenly turned her around, a decidedly predatory gleam shining within his indigo gaze as it settled on her mouth. One hand skimmed her breast as it slid upwards until it reached her hair, then quickly disposed of the pins that held it in place on top of her head, his fingers threading into the silky strands as they tumbled loosely over her shoulders and back. _

"_You're so beautiful, love," he murmured huskily, his hand leaving her tresses to cradle her jaw, tilting her head slightly to the left while lowering his own oh so slowly until their lips were no more than a breath away. "__**My**__ sweet girl," he whispered before claiming her lips passionately with his. _

_Her hands weaved their way up his chest, delighting in the solid mass of muscle beneath her fingertips as they climbed to twine around his neck… and just in the nick of time. Her knees buckled, legs almost giving in when he captured her lower lip between his teeth, tugging at it lightly before brushing his tongue over it sensuously. She couldn't stop the moan that rasped in her throat, allowing his tongue entrance to the moist cavern of her mouth to tangle with hers. _

_His hand moved back to cover her breast, molding it, weighing it in his palm briefly before lowering the top of her gown, exposing her for his pleasure. Feeling his cool touch against the bare, sensitive flesh of her nipples caused them to harden and ache with desire for yet more of his attentions._

_He broke the kiss, his mouth intent on exploring the column of her throat. She sighed as he took his time, applied his talents upon her neck, adorning it with tender kisses and gentle sweeps of his tongue, occasionally nipping the skin between his teeth making her hiss and shudder. Slowly, he worked his way lower, building her passion, making her yearn for him to treat her breasts to the exquisite feel of those lips. _

_It was the sweetest form of torture she'd ever known when he reached the swell of her mounds, placing a gentle kiss to each before choosing one to trail a wet path with his tongue straight for her nipple. She arched forward, wanting, needing him to complete the journey, to feast and devour all she offered but he denied her, choosing instead to draw upon her desperation in an orchestrated dance, back and forth, back and forth. Each lustful heave of her chest was met only by his breath, lips pulling away, hovering so close over her needy peak, teasing it almost cruelly. He stilled her by placing a firm hand to her torso, making it clear he was in control. _

_Insanity threatened to overtake her, she needed him so badly and yet he continued to remain just out of reach, forbidding her body's attempts to close the gap between them. His thumb strummed the small of her waist, letting her know he had no intention to leave her wanting. He inhaled sharply, as if wanting to smell her arousal, memorize it, relish in the fragrance of her desperation for a moment longer, making her entire being tremble with anticipation. _

_His grip tightened in response and she could feel his own desire in every subtle movement as he prepared her… readied them both. Her whispered 'please' elicited an animalistic, possessive growl from deep within his throat and without warning..._

_Riiiiing... riiiiing…_

Buffy started as the shrill timbre of the phone flooded the hotel room, effectively snapping her out of her fantasy. She opened her eyes and watched the device confusedly as it rang, still unable to believe that her daydream had been interrupted. Confusion soon led to anger, as disappointment and unfulfilled desire coursed through her body. She'd been so close, so close and now…

"No, no, NO!" She pummeled her pillow with her fisted hands. "Even the damn phone is against me! Unbelievable! This better be something important, because if it's not… grrrr," she exclaimed before taking the receiver off its cradle and practically barked into it, "What?!"

"Miss Summers? I'm sorry to bother you, but there's a Mr. Jonathan Levinson with a special delivery for you at the reception desk."

"Who? For me? Are you sure? I don't know anyone by that name," she said, her innate curiosity making her forget all about being angry.

"Yes, Miss Summers, I'm quite certain. Would you like to speak to him first over the telephone?"

"Yes, please." Her brow furrowed as she tried to imagine who this Jonathan Levinson person was.

"Good morning, Miss Summers, this is Jonathan Levinson speaking."

"Err, good morning. I hope you don't think I'm bad-mannered or anything, but would you be so kind as to tell me who you are?

"Of course. I'm Mr. William Wellington's assistant and I have instructions to deliver a gift from him to you personally."

"W-William Wellington?" She swallowed hard, her heart thundering inside her chest. "The artist?"

"Yes."

"But I don't know him, I mean, why would he send me a gift? It doesn't make sense."

"I wouldn't know, Miss. I'm just following orders."

"Okay," she said hesitantly. "I'll meet you in the lobby in about… ten minutes then." She hung up the phone, completely shell-shocked. William Wellington was sending her a gift? Why would someone she'd never met before want to send her a gift? Unless he was… nah, that was not possible.

-----

Exactly ten minutes later, Buffy stepped out of the elevator and walked up to the reception desk.

"Good morning, I'm Elizabeth Summers. Is there a Jonathan Levinson still waiting for me?" she said smiling sheepishly at the woman behind the counter, hoping that would make her forget the rude way she'd answered the phone earlier. After all, it wasn't the woman's fault that everything seemed to be against her trying to have at least one happy ending to last night, even if it was only in her dreams.

"Oh, yes, Miss Summers, good morning. Mr. Levinson is waiting for you in there." She pointed to a small office on the right.

"Thank you."

She walked over and knocked on the door, waiting rather impatiently for it to open and when it did, she couldn't hide her surprise at seeing the man who'd been talking with Riley the night before on the other side. This was William Wellington's assistant?

"Jonathan Levinson?"

"The one and only." He chuckled as he extended his hand, taking hers to shake it warmly. "Miss Summers, I presume?"

"Y-yes."

"I was sent by Mr. William Wellington to give this to you."

He moved to the side to let her see the gift was none other that her favorite piece out of the collection they had on display the night before. The one she'd discussed at large with Spike. _'The one'. _

"B-but… this has to be some kind of mistake. This painting is invaluable, why would he give it to me? I don't even know him," Buffy asked, unable to take her eyes away from the painting. This couldn't be happening, could it? Not to her. It was too good to be true. Maybe she was still dreaming?

"I wouldn't know, Miss Summers, but I'm quite certain there's no mistake. Mr. Wellington was quite adamant that this particular piece was to be delivered to you. As a present," he added.

"I don't understand."

"I'm just following orders, Miss. Now if you'll excuse me, I have to go back to work."

He moved to the door and was about to leave, when Buffy shook off of her stupor.

"Wait! Can you tell me anything else about him, about Mr. Wellington, I mean?" What he looked like? Why on earth would he give such an amazing gift to someone he didn't know?

"Sorry, Miss, I'm not in liberty to disclose any information about him. Surely you understand."

"Y-yes, I understand. Mr. Wellington is a very private man. But… I'd like to at least thank him… in person if it's possible. Is there any way I could contact him?"

"I'm truly not at liberty t—"

She sighed and smiled sadly. "I know, I know, to disclose information about him. What if I sent him my business card, let him decide if he'd be willing to meet me? Would you give it to him?"

"Yes, Miss, I can certainly do that."

"Perfect." She took one of her cards out of her purse and wrote a few lines on it before giving it to the man. "Thank you so much, you're so kind for delivering the painting and for doing this for me."

He smiled softly, taking the card and putting it in his suit's pocket. "You're welcome, Miss Summers. Oh, and before I forget, I will be bringing the painting's certificate of ownership and all the other documents you'll need to transport it back to the States later today. I hope that's not an inconvenience for you?"

"No, of course not, thank you, Mr. Levinson."

She stayed in the small office for a long time after he left, gazing at the magnificent painting. **Her** painting. She couldn't believe it was hers. In fact, she half-expected him to return any minute saying there had indeed been a mistake and that the gift wasn't meant for her after all.

She couldn't get over it, couldn't understand what could have possessed William Wellington, a man who didn't know her, to give her something as precious, as priceless as this piece, but of course she wasn't about to question her luck either. How could she when she'd fallen in love with it the second she laid eyes on it the night before? And… when it was the one tangible part of a memory that last night wasn't just a figment of her overactive imagination?

She glanced at the clock over the desk and saw that she'd been inside the office for over an hour already. Knowing she couldn't stay there for much longer, she walked over to the desk and called the front desk asking if they could send a bellboy to help her bring the painting up to her room. She was aware she could have probably asked the hotel manager to safe-keep it in their vault, but for the time being, she refused to keep it out of her sight.

--------

_Spike's home, just outside of London_

Spike twirled the small business card over and over in his fingers, unable to put it down despite having memorized the small message it contained. Buffy wanted to meet him, to thank him in person for the painting. That, of course, should be out of the question. Should be. Were it anyone else, he wouldn't hesitate to deny such a request.

And that was precisely the problem.

She wasn't just anyone else, she was the one woman to have captivated him beyond reason and he wasn't certain if he **could** deny her... anything that she wanted. She was offering him another opportunity, one more chance to see her again, to bask in her radiance, her warmth... he wasn't sure he could deny himself.

Of course, granting her request also meant revealing his true identity. Only a handful of people knew he was William Wellington, the artist. Could he trust her? To keep his secret?

It had been bloody difficult for him to walk away from their first encounter and he'd only been with her for a few short hours. Would he be able to walk away a second time?

He'd spent the remainder of that evening sketching her face on his drawing pad, wanting to recreate her beauty as perfectly as he could to always remember. The way her eyes lit up when she laughed, when they got lost as she talked about his work, how her lips curled at the ends before blooming into the most magnificent smile he'd ever witnessed, how warm her hand felt under his, how soft her skin felt when he kissed her cheek...

Should he decide to see her again, to expose himself to the warmth, beauty and purity that was Buffy as he had last night, would he be able to give her up a second time? Did he trust himself not to pursue anything beyond what could be nothing more than a chimera with this woman? Yes, he most assuredly could. He was a Master Vampire for hell's sakes, completely in control of both his demon and the man. Of course he could control his reaction to a woman, no matter how desirable, how perfect he thought she was.

Decision made, he dialed the operator to connect him with The Mandeville Hotel and after securing a private-salon at deVille, he left a message for her at the reception desk saying that William Wellington would meet her there at five o'clock.

Yes, he would meet Buffy Summers again, but it would be on his own terms, not hers. And this time would be **the** last time they ever saw each other.

---------

Receiving William Wellington's message had thrown Buffy for a loop. Yes, she'd asked to meet him in person, but she hadn't truly expected him to accept… hoped he did, yes, but never counted on it.

After the initial shock wore off, she proceeded to try on all of the clothes she'd brought with her, finally settling on a yellow sundress with golden high heeled sandals. It was simple yet elegant and complimented her skin tone and figure perfectly, not to mention the few inches the heels added to her height did wonders for her confidence.

Satisfied with the image reflected on the bathroom mirror, Buffy grabbed her purse on the way to the door, nervous yet excited to meet the reclusive artist who'd gifted her with something she considered priceless.

-------

Spike arrived at The Mandeville Hotel nearly ten minutes before the predetermined time, situated himself on one of the huge couches in the lobby near the lift and waited for Buffy to appear. He would never admit it to another living soul, or unliving creature, but he was quite… eager to see her again. Of confirming that she was indeed as beautiful, warm and radiant, as she'd appeared to him the night before.

A couple of minutes before five, the lift's bell chimed and its doors opened to reveal the most glorious creature he'd ever gazed upon. Dressed in a yellow dress, she looked every part the radiant sun he'd compared her with last night. So intently was he staring at her that he almost forgot he didn't want her to see him just yet and quickly brought the newspaper he held in his hands up to conceal his face from her before she could look his way.

He watched her walk into the restaurant and waited a few minutes before following, relishing the thought of her reaction when he finally exposed his identity to her.

-------

Buffy thanked the maitre d' after he led her to the private salon Mr. Wellington had reserved and seated, though she would've preferred a clear view of the entrance. As it was, she'd have to crane her neck to see if anyone were to walk in and she didn't fancy Mr. Wellington finding her like that.

Sighing deeply, she placed her hands in her lap, wringing them nervously whiles waiting. She glanced at the elegant clock hanging on the wall; it was five after the hour already. What if he didn't show? No, he wouldn't have left her a message saying he would or make the reservation if he didn't have the intention of coming, would he?

He moved like a predator, stealthily, as only a true creature of the night could, inhaling deeply as he approached her, delighting, drowning once again in the familiar, delicate vanilla scent that was hers and hers alone before making his presence known.

She was about to turn around to call the maitre d' when a deep voice purred in her ear, "Good evenin', love."

tbc

Just so you know, I'm planning to update this story every Wednesday, unless my muse decides otherwise. ;)

Okay, now is your turn, what did you think of this chapter? I'd love to know, if you feel inclined to tell me. battes eyelashes


	4. Chapter 4 Surrealism

Thank you, talia, unafraid666, maharet97, J, AutumnSoleil and SerenityCascada, for reviewing. I can't thank you all of you enough for the amazing response over this story, truly. I never expected it. Thank you from the bottom of my heart to the kind person that nominated this story for Most Original Plot at the Feeling Love Awards. It was such a wonderful surprise! And if you feel inclined to vote for it, or for any of the amazing stories nominated you can vote at community(dot)livejournal(dot)com/fl(underscore)awards/6306(dot)html?mode(equal)reply

Thank you, Mary5958, for allowing me to use her fantastic manip of Spike for this story and for personalizing it for me. I fell in love with it as soon as I saw it. That's the image of him that I had in mind for this story. :D

As always, a million thanks to my lovely ImbloodyEnglish for her patience, her time and her amazing beta skills. smooches And to Tammy and peroxidedreams for listening to my muse's crazy ideas and fueling her on. ;)

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_Chapter 4. Surrealism_

"Good evenin', love."

Buffy jolted in surprise when she realized that the voice purring in her ear was the same one she hadn't been able to forget. Her heart skipped a beat as she turned around in her chair to confirm what she already knew, only to start beating faster when she found herself staring into the deep ocean blue eyes of the man that dominated her thoughts and fantasies since last night.

She blinked several times, waiting for him to disappear as he'd done so many times in her dreams. Ever since he'd bid her good night at the exhibit, she'd hoped he would come looking for her.

And he had.

Her emerald eyes followed him in complete astonishment as he sat down across from her. Dressed in black jeans, a cream-colored shirt and vest, black tie and coat, he looked quite different from last night. Different, but not any less handsome… or mysterious. She snapped out of her reverie when she watched him unfold the napkin placed in front of him, making her realize that he was planning to join her.

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"Wha— I-I mean," she cleared her throat, her voice failing her at first. "Not that I'm not glad to see you again, but… what are you doing here?" She shifted nervously in her seat, stealing peeks over her shoulder at the entrance door to the salon, unsure of what to do.

She stole a sideways glance at the clock, sighing dejectedly as she noticed the time. She didn't want Spike to leave, but it was ten after five now and Mr. Wellington should be arriving any minute. And no matter how deliciously handsome the man in front of her was, she wasn't about to be rude with the artist that had gifted her with one of the most amazing paintings she'd ever seen.

She was gorgeous, much more so than he remembered. His eyes drifted longingly to her glorious golden hair—which fell unbound down her back in smooth waves, tempting him to bury his fingers in it—before settling on her expressive eyes.

Confusion, delight, indecision swirled upon the green depths as they shifted from him to the entrance of the salon to the clock on the wall and back to him again. Her whole demeanor making it clear she still had no idea who he truly was or why he was here, of how to handle the situation she'd found herself in.

He relished the thought of how she would react when she discovered William Wellington and he were one and the same. And suddenly he could wait no longer to find out.

"Are you waitin' for someone in particular, pet?"

"Ummm, yes… actually. Mr. Wellington agreed to meet me here and well, I think it will be a discourtesy to him if you were to stay. Is there any chance we could meet later? Perhaps… if you like?"

"There's no need for that."

"There's not?" '_What the…_'

"He's already here."

"He is? Where?" She turned on her chair toward the entranceway, twisting back around when she heard him chuckle.

"You're lookin' at him, pet."

"I'm loo— Y-you? You're William Wellington?" she asked, her eyes widening when he nodded. Finding it difficult to grasp the concept that Spike and the artist she'd been dying to meet were the same person, she breathlessly added, "But w-why? Last night—"

"Why?" he repeated. "Why didn't I tell you who I was when we met last night?"

"Yes, I mean no, wait." She shook her head after remembering what she'd read of Mr. Wellington. "Of course you wouldn't tell me... I've read that you're a private person and you probably wanted to see how people would react to your work without knowing you were there."

"You are very perceptive, Miss Summers," he nodded to validate her statement. "But I already knew that."

She smiled, pleased with his compliment. "What I really want to know is why did you give me that painting? And please don't get me wrong, I truly appreciate it, more than you can imagine. Not even in my wildest dreams did I ever expect to own something as magnificent, as priceless as that piece. But… you don't know me, so why would you want me to have it when I'm sure if you'd sold it you would have received more than just a simple thank you?"

"A genuine smile of gratitude is payment enough, love. That… is priceless. I don't care about its monetary value; I have more than enough money to last me several lifetimes. What is invaluable to me is the knowledge that I gave it to the one person who would love and care for it as much as I do," he said matter-of-factly, then tilted his head to one side and asked, "Am I wrong?"

"No, no, you're not." She shook her head, trying to clear her thoughts. "And I do… thank you from the bottom of my heart. I promise I'll take good care of it."

"I know, sweetheart."

She melted at this new nickname he used with her. "I have another question," she began hesitantly. "Why did you agree to meet with me today?"

"I thought it was obvious," he replied, cocking a scarred eyebrow upward at her, smirking when her cheeks turned crimson the moment she understood his innuendo.

"W-well, I would imagine that being the private person you are, you wouldn't want a stranger like me knowing your identity?" God, he made her nervous… but in all the right ways.

"You're hardly a stranger, love. A stranger wouldn't understand… recognize all that I felt while painting that piece. I consider myself an excellent judge of character and I know you're not the type of person who would betray my trust."

Hearing this, she felt deeply touched and was about to tell him just that when the maître d' entered the private dining room wheeling in a small cart of food.

The man placed the trays on the table, full of homemade scones, sandwiches and cupcakes before serving them tea and leaving milk, lemon and sugar cubes for them to prepare it with, asking if they'll be needing anything else before disappearing when he received a 'no' from Spike.

Buffy's eyes widened like saucers at the display and how heavenly it smelled. She hadn't eaten all day, nervous as she'd been about this meeting, and now she was ravenous.

"Sandwich?" Spike asked, unable to hide his smile at Buffy's eager nod and the way her eyes lit up when she'd seen the array of food. She was so bloody adorable. "Or perhaps we could sample everything? You simply have not lived if you haven't tried some of these."

"How can I resist?" She giggled, taking the plate he'd filled for her, trying one of the sandwiches first. She closed her eyes, her expression one of pure, undiluted pleasure as her taste buds exploded in rapture at the amazing combination of flavors. "God, this is simply scrumptious! Here," she said, handing him the rest of her sandwich.

Spike's eyes darkened with lust as they fixed on her lips, wishing he had the right to pull her onto his lap and devour them, taste them as she'd done her food. Up until that moment he'd been able to keep his thoughts of her on a purely intellectual and artistic basis, or so he told himself. Just the appreciation of an artist for a beautiful creature. Nothing more.

Unable to resist the temptation, he took her gently by the wrist and drew her hand towards his mouth, taking a bite of the small sandwich, his tongue swiping sensuously over her fingers as he did, as if on accident.

The telltale warmth of her blush washed over her face again as she felt his tongue graze her fingers. This time it wasn't due to shyness, but to desire. Her skin tingled and the tiny sparks of lust spread through her body to her most intimate of places while losing herself in his eyes once again.

"Scrumptious, indeed," he said, winking playfully at her before finishing the sandwich off and allowing her to pull her hand away from his.

"Hey, that was mine." She pouted.

He had to fake a cough to hide the groan erupting from his throat at the sight of that lip jutting out slightly, wishing he could get closer and take it between his own to suckle. It would be all too easy to do, too. But he couldn't, if he did… there was the chance that he'd want more and that couldn't be.

Shaking the gloomy feel that the resolution brought and determined to enjoy the rest of the time they still had, he smiled as he offered her a sandwich from his own plate.

They continued chatting animatedly about art, life and themselves while eating, enjoying the easy rapport between them, flirting casually while exchanging brief glances and small touches every now and then, almost forgetting about the time until the maître d' entered the room again to retrieve the trays and hand the check to Spike, who immediately brought his wallet out to extract a few crisp bills and gave them to the boy.

Sensing their time together was coming to an end and not wanting that to happen, Buffy gave in to an impulse. "Hmm, I don't know about you, but I'm quite full, perhaps we could walk it off?"

"Walk it off?" he asked, his left eyebrow rising inquisitively.

"Yes, around the block, or somewhere close by. I think I read there was a park that closes late at night during the summer?"

"The Regent's Park?"

"Yes, that's the one. I-if you want to, I mean," she backpedaled. "If you have somewhere else to be I understand."

Up to that last statement, she looked so excited at the prospect of extending their evening that he simply couldn't deny her. Since he didn't expect to see her again after tonight, what harm could come from spending a little more time in her company?

He smiled. "I don't. Shall we then?"

"Yes," she beamed as he helped her out of her chair.

His eyes raked over her backside as she preceded him outside of the restaurant, delighting in the way her pale dress clung to every curve and belatedly noticed she hadn't brought a shawl or a sweater. He wondered if he should warn her of the cold London nights, but ultimately decided not to. Wouldn't it be 'just awful' if he had to help keep her warm?

-------

Buffy tried to suppress a shiver as she braved England's-much-cooler-than-Sunnydale's night air. She was afraid that if Spike noticed he'd insist they go back and she'd hate to cut their evening short just because she was chilly.

Spike noticed her barely repressed shudder however, and knowing he wasn't yet ready to say goodbye, took his coat off and placed it over her shoulders, keeping his arm around her just to better guard her from the cold. Or so he told himself.

It had absolutely nothing to do with the fact that, like last night, when he touched her, he found it impossible to stop. What was it about this girl, this woman that made him want to never release her?

She was cold one second and blissfully warm the next. His scent surrounded her as she felt something wrap around her. Surprised, she turned to look at her shoulders then at him, finding those baby blues watching her intently while his coat and arm kept her comfortable.

She smiled gratefully and ducked her head shyly; her cheeks flush with undisguised pleasure. She brought her hand up to pull his coat closer to her body, inhaling deeply to drown herself in his heady scent, unwittingly grazing his fingers with hers as she did.

He felt the need to capture her hand in his, craving the feel of her soft skin and immediately felt the same electrical undercurrent he'd felt the night before coursing through the borrowed blood that filled his veins.

"Thanks, but aren't you cold?" she finally asked, tightening her grasp on his hand as their fingers intertwined.

He shrugged, not wanting to explain that weather didn't affect him in the slightest. His undead heart soared, however, when she laced her hand with his. He hadn't expected to feel this… need to connect with her in such a simple way as skin on skin.

"But your hand is freezing."

"You know what they say, love… cold hands, warm heart."

The heated look he treated her with was enough to make her forget about the cool night; make her forget about everything except them. Walking with him, talking only when needed was paradise. She didn't feel the need to fill the comfortable silence they'd fallen into with meaningless chatter, it just felt... right. It was as if they could communicate through something that went deeper than words.

It reminded her of her daydream. Of how his hands and lips felt as they touched her. Of how it affected her. Of how her blood boiled in her veins when he pressed his hard body against her and the evidence of his arousal sent shivers of need to her womb.

He drew in a deep, unneeded breath, just to savor the aroma of her burgeoning arousal. Delighting in the feel of his manhood as it hardened in reaction to it, to her, fully aware that it was their closeness that provoked her, enticed her. He tightened his hold to her shoulders, pulling her as close as possible against him.

"Tell me, luv, what are you thinkin' 'bout right now?"

_'You.'_ "How lucky I am."

"Lucky?"

"Yeah, to have such a beautiful gift given to me. To have met the artist who painted it... and that it's you," she whispered shyly while hoping her true meaning wasn't lost on him.

He couldn't hide his prideful smile at her words, at the tone she used as she'd said them. It meant the world to him to know that she admired his work. To know that he hadn't been wrong when he'd gifted her with his painting. And to realize that it wasn't only the artist she was talking about, but him. Spike. The man.

Before either knew, they were standing at the entrance to The Mandeville. The walk back from the park had been made at a slow pace, as if neither wanted their encounter to end. In Buffy's case, due to the uncertainty of knowing if he'd want to meet with her again after tonight; and in Spike's, because he had promised himself this would be the last time he'd ever see her.

"Well, this is me." She nodded towards the hotel. "I'll be in London for two more weeks, if you feel inclined to call me." She held her breath at the bold statement, but she couldn't say goodnight without letting him know in this way, that she hoped he would want to see her again.

"Is that what you'd like?"

"Yes," she answered, hope flooding her heart and staining her cheeks pink.

He waited a moment before answering, before realizing he couldn't deny her, especially with the way she was looking at him… right now. "Then, count on it, love."

"I will." She took his jacket off from around her shoulders and handed it back to him. On a whim, she stood on her tiptoes, placing her hands over his chest for leverage, before pressing a soft kiss to his cheek. "Good night, Spike."

He stood on the sidewalk for a while longer after she entered the hotel. A grin tugged at his lips as he touched the place where she'd kiss him before taking his cell-phone out and calling his driver to pick him up.

-------

Riley's fists clenched and unclenched furiously as he witnessed the scene unfolding in front of him. He'd been about to step out of the cab transporting him, when Buffy kissed the man he'd seen her arm in arm with at the exhibition last night. How dare she? He itched to intervene, let the man know that she was his, and his only, even if she didn't know it herself, but decided this was not the place or time for that. And especially not with as mad from jealous as he was now.

Tomorrow… tomorrow would be soon enough.

tbc

Like, dislike? Are you wondering what my muse is planning next? giggles If you feel inclined to tell me, I'll love to read your comments and answer them as best as I can. ;)


	5. Chapter 5 Realism

This chapter was very difficult to write. It was supposed to be longer, but I've been quite busy this past week at work, add to that that my daughters are on vacation for two weeks and that muse abandoned me until yesterday and I actually thought I wouldn't be able to finish it on time to post today. So, I just hope it isn't a disappointment for all of you.

I want to thank Susan The Reader, AutumnSoleil, J, lil-red07 and Slayer in the dark, for reading and reviewing this story. Truly, your response has been overwhelming for me, which is in great part the reason I forced myself to finish this chapter.

A million thanks to the lovely Tammy, for reading this chapter and assuring me that it didn't suck. ;) And thank you to my very lucky friend, ImbloodyEnglish, who's away on vacation and will meet James this weekend, for her help with the start of this chapter.

And last but not least, a humongous thank you to mravensblood for personalizing the banner that inspired this story for me. :D

You can view it at:

http:// img (dot) photobucket (dot) com/albums/v46/dusty273/artimmortality (dot) gif

_Chapter 5. Realism_

Spike leaned on his studio's balcony to witness the first signs of daybreak. Slivers of light peeked through the grey, underlying clouds that sat heavily on the eastern horizon, signaling the start of a new day.

This was his favorite time of day, the one moment when he could bask in the sunrays without them rendering him to dust. It didn't matter that it lasted only a few seconds; the image alone was enough to last him throughout the day. It was enough to illuminate his darkness; to make him feel as if he were stepping out of the shadows into the light.

Make him feel as he did when he was in Buffy's presence.

He inhaled deeply, enjoying the rich, vibrant scent of the earth as it filled the morning air. He listened to the birds sing as they awoke. Everything seemed to come to life at that moment. Even himself.

The tingling on the back of his neck reminded him that the time he could remain outside would be over in a few seconds. He walked back inside and threw one last longing look at the rising sun, before closing the tempered French doors. Pressing his forehead to the glass, he continued observing the sun's ascent for a few more minutes, although it didn't quite provoke the same cozy sensation as before in him.

Sure, he could still watch the sun through the tempered windows. All bloody day if he chose to. It wasn't the same, though. The glass all the windows in his home were made of allowed the sunlight to come into his home, somehow neutralizing the rays so they wouldn't affect him; however, it also prevented its warmth from entering, too. And that in itself was the cruelest form of punishment for his sins that God or whoever ruled the universe could've ever devised. But even that didn't stop him from doing it day after day, either. He refused to give up on that as he'd had to give up on so many other things.

With a dejected sigh, he turned his attention to the room he was in. His studio. The place where he spent most of his waking hours in. Whether it was painting, thinking or writing poetry that he'd never dream of sharing with anyone.

His sacred haven. His sanctuary, his refuge. The one place where he didn't have to worry about anyone finding out what he truly was. The one place where he could truly be himself.

The place where he'd finally realized that he couldn't continue walking down the dark path that the fates had set up for him. Where he understood that although he didn't truly possess a soul, he still had a heart and even if it didn't beat, it still felt. Where he learned to control his demon, overpower the urges of its nature, until **he** was the one in charge.

After that, art became his whole life. He cut himself off from just about everything that wasn't related to it. He poured all of himself into his paintings, his heart, his soul, his everything. However, he hadn't been aware of how cold and empty his life had become by doing that, of how alone he truly felt until he met Buffy at the exhibit.

He'd thought he didn't need for anything and he couldn't have been more wrong. He hadn't realized how starved for human touch, for her touch, his self-imposed reclusion had made him.

In only two days, she'd managed to turn his world upside down. To shatter all his preconceived notions of what he needed, of what was important to him, into a million pieces. To the point where he felt unable to deny her anything. To the point where it actually pained him to think of denying himself from seeing her, even if he probably wouldn't be seeing her again after she returned to the States.

He'd just have to make the most of the two weeks they still had. Starting today. And he had just the perfect way to begin.

He glanced at the clock on the fireplace mantle and saw that it was almost eight already. Still early, considering she was on vacation, but he hoped she wouldn't mind much when she discovered the reason of his call.

Dialing the operator, he requested to be connected to The Mandeville Hotel and afterwards to Miss Elizabeth Summers' room. A few rings afterward, a sleepy voice answered, "H-hello?" followed by what he supposed was a huge yawn. He chuckled at that, she was adorable even over the phone.

"Mornin', love. Sleep well?"

She almost threw the phone away in surprise when she heard the voice she'd been listening at on her dreams on the other side of the phone, only to hang on to it for dear life when she realized what she almost did. Yes, he said he'd call and she'd hoped he kept his word, but she hadn't expected him to call at… she blinked when her eyes settled on the clock on the nightstand, eight in the morning? "Spike?"

"I do hope you excuse me from calling this early, sweetheart, but I have an invitation for you."

She'd excuse him anything if he called her that again. "A-an invitation?" she repeated dumbly, her heart was hammering so loudly inside her chest that she wasn't sure if she'd heard him right.

"I was wondering if perhaps you'd like to visit my home and see the rest of my art collection today."

He was inviting her to his house to see his art collection? _Oh God, oh God, oh GOD._ Her breath hitched in her throat as anticipation bubbled inside of her. To have the opportunity of seeing him again and to have a private showing of the rest of his paintings? How could she say no to that?

"Buffy, are you still there?" He knew she was, he heard her breathing, but for the life of him he couldn't imagine why she hadn't answered yet. Perhaps she had plans already and he was putting her on the spot?

"Y-yes, yes, I'm here and of course, I'd love to visit your home."

"Alright then. I'll send my chauffer to pick you up in say… two hours?"

"Two hours is perfect. I'll be ready by then."

"Alright, I shall see you later, love," he said.

"Bye," she hung up the phone, a huge smile in her face as she leaned on the pillows again. "Two hours." Just enough time to raid her closet once more and find the perfect outfit or so she hoped.

--------

Anne Giles, Spike's housekeeper, tried to hide the fond smile that bloomed in her face as she watched him impatiently pace the length of the library over and over as he gave her instructions for Buffy's visit. She and her family had worked in this house all their life and all of them cared deeply for Master William. And now he had met a girl, a woman, he obviously trusted well enough to invite over. A huge step in the right direction considering they hadn't had any visitors in decades. Perhaps this girl would be the one that would finally bring some light into his house and his life? She could only hope she was.

"Alright then, you'll be in charge of the menus and has Giles already left to pick Miss Summers at the hotel?"

"Yes, Master William, he left as soon as you told him to."

"Anything else?"

"No, I think that's all." She smiled and started walking to the door, only to say just before leaving, "It's nice to see you like this, lad."

"Who are you calling lad? I'm a lot older than you are, Anne," he said raising an inquisitive eyebrow, before smiling back at her. She and her husband, Rupert Giles, had been working at his home for more years than he cared to remember and were the closest thing to having a family he ever had.

"I know that. Still, it's been so long since I've seen you this excited over a visit, if ever," she replied, and without waiting for his reply, she closed the door behind her.

He smiled as she left. Yes, he was excited to see Buffy again.

She'd brightened his world with the purity of her soul, painted his somber existence with the amazing colors of her smile, made him feel he could be a better man just by letting him gaze into those gorgeous emerald eyes, by allowing him to hold her hand in his as they walked. Just by being in her presence. And he wasn't ready to relinquish that feeling, not yet.

To be continued in Chapter 6. Romanticism.

Like, dislike? If you feel inclined to tell me, I'll love to read your comments and answer them as best as I can. ;)


	6. Chapter 6 Romanticism Part One

A/N: Thank you so much to lilred-07, SerenityCasada, AutumnSoleil, SweetPrincess4eva, Lissa, Thistlespike and unafraid666 for reading and reviewing. It truly brightens my day to know that you're enjoying reading this story as much as I'm enjoying writing it. hugs you all

As always, a boatload of thanks to my lovely ImbloodyEnglish for her patience, her time and her amazing beta skills. It truly isn't the same when you're not around, cariño. smooches And to Tammy, for listening to my muse's crazy ideas and fueling her on. ;)

_Chapter 6. Romanticism (Part One)_

Time had never held much importance to him. It was inconsequential, he had eternity after all. Now, however, time had acquired a different connotation. Where before it had been everlasting, endless; now it was momentary, finite. And it was because of her. Buffy.

Two weeks. He had two weeks to create memories that should last him forever. Two weeks after which he would have to renounce her. However—even knowing this—he couldn't, **wouldn't**, bring it to an end. Not yet. Not until he absolutely had to and… perhaps, not even then.

The fates had put her in his path for some reason, be it to punish him for his past sins by knowing that she'd never be his or for whatever insane motive only they understood. Even knowing this dream had an expiration date didn't stop him from wanting to live it to the fullest, though. On the contrary.

He'd been merely existing for the past two hundred years, going through the motions, living—if one could call that living—only to paint, without any regard for the outside world. Now, today, for two weeks, he would have the opportunity of experiencing what life could truly be through the eyes of the lovely woman that had brought so much light into his life. Could he in good faith let a chance like this pass him by?

No, of course he couldn't.

There were no doubts in his mind that she wouldn't be opposed to them spending time together. Call him pretentious if you want, but Buffy had made her personal interest in him known in many ways since they'd met and he reveled in each and every sweet gesture, look, smile or touch for small it was that she threw his way.

It mattered not what would happen after these two weeks were over. They would still have this time and he had to convince himself that it would be enough.

---------

"Two hours is perfect, I'll be ready by then… yeah, right!" she scoffed as she hurried from her room to the bathroom to inspect her latest attempt at dressing herself up just right. She'd already tried the majority of the clothes she'd brought with her for the second time and had just two more outfits to try.

She glanced at the clock on the nightstand when she returned to the room and wished time would stop yet hurry up all at once, if that made any sense at all. On one hand, she needed more time to get ready, wanting to look perfect for Spike, hence the wanting time to stand still. But on the other hand, she also wished time would go by faster, since she couldn't wait to see him again.

How could anyone feel such a strong connection with a person, a man they'd just met? She didn't know, but she did. She'd never felt anything quite like this for anyone before. She'd had a few boyfriends in the past to be sure, but nothing serious. She hadn't felt this all-encompassing need to be with any of them, to spend as much time with them as she possibly could. Did Spike feel the same way as she did? Oh God, she hoped so. He was interested in her, otherwise he wouldn't have shown the day before and his earlier call had to mean something as well, hopefully that he was as eager to see her again as she was to see him.

She snapped out of her musings when she noticed that she only had fifteen minutes left, picked a white sundress from the growing pile of clothes over her bed and dressed quickly. Walking back to the bathroom, she applied some mascara, lipstick and brushed her hair until it shined under the fluorescent light. Content with her appearance, she grabbed her purse and left the room.

As soon as the elevator door's opened, she advanced to the front desk and smiled at the receptionist.

"Good morning, do you know if there's anyone waiting for me… Elizabeth Summers?" she asked; anticipation, excitement and anxiety filling her as she waited for the answer.

"Yes, Miss Summers." She made a signal to someone at her right and shortly after, a forty-something man dressed in a black uniform appeared by her side.

"Good morning, Miss Summers. My name is Rupert Giles and I'm Mr. Wellington's driver," he said with a small bow.

"Good morning, Mr. Giles." She smiled at the kind man who was looking at her with barely concealed curiosity.

"If you're ready to leave, I will bring the car to the front and wait for you there?"

"Yes, thank you. I'll be right out."

She turned back to the receptionist, giving her the keycard to her room and was about to follow Mr. Giles when someone blocked her way.

Someone was waving a huge bouquet of roses in front of her face as if it were a flag. Or rather a red cape being swung in front of a bull since she hardly managed to hide her annoyance when she realized it was Riley. She sighed dejectedly. Leave it to him to ruin what had painted up to be a wonderful day.

"Good morning, Buffy," he greeted, lowering his face to kiss her on the cheek.

She sidestepped him just in time to avoid his lips even grazing her skin then freezing him with an icy glare. "What do you think you're doing?"

"I thought… you said that was the British way of—"

"Exactly, British, as in only can be used by the British. Now if you'll excuse me…" She moved past him towards the front door.

"Wait a minute, where are you going?"

She turned around and raised an inquisitive eyebrow at his demanding question. "Excuse me?"

"Where are you going?" he repeated, slowly enunciating each word as if talking to a small child. "It's a simple enough question."

_What the—_ Outrage flooded her veins at the way he spoke to her. Who the hell did he think he was, first trying to kiss her and then speaking to her as if he owned her? She'd had enough of the troglodyte and refused to allow him to ruin her good mood, so instead of shouting like she wanted, she replied coldly, "Last I checked I didn't have to tell you or anyone else for that matter where I'm going, so…" She pivoted on her heel intent on leaving, but was prevented from doing so when a hand grabbed her arm. "Let. Me. Go. Now!" she said through gritted teeth, attempting to pull away from him.

"Buffy, you have to talk to me. See? I brought you flowers and I have a wonderful day planned for— Ughh!" he was interrupted when she drove her knee to collide against his testicles with all her might, finally freeing her arm when he doubled over in pain and fell to the floor.

"Miss Summers, are you alright?" the receptionist asked worried as she appeared by her side. She noticed the man had grabbed the petite woman and called for help before coming out to the foyer to find the blonde had already taken care of matters by herself.

"Y-yes, I'm alright… now."

"I've called security. Would you like to file a complaint against him?"

Buffy looked at Riley who continued to moan in pain while cupping his groin and sighed, knowing that he had taken up more than enough of her time already. "No, that won't be necessary." She neared him and added, "I should have done this a long time ago, but better late than never I guess. I've tried to let you down gently, however it seems you don't understand that I don't like you, I never did and I never will. There's no chance of **anything** ever happening between us, romantically or otherwise. I never imagined it would come down to this, but I don't want to see or talk to you again, not even if it has to do with the gallery. Consider our business arrangement, if you could even call it that, over. And if you ever try to contact me again, believe me… I won't hesitate to involve the police."

She stood as tall as she could manage at five foot two inches, held her head high and with as much dignity as she could muster after what just happened, nodded a silent thanks to the receptionist before walking out of the hotel without a backward glance. Her face flamed as she felt the looks of some of the hotel patrons following her, but she refused to even acknowledge them.

Once outside, she threw a grateful smile at Mr. Giles who was holding the back door open to a black Bentley. She climbed into the back seat, let out a long sigh and closed her eyes while reclining her head against the leather headrest.

She hated confrontations. Truly hated them; but she hated a controlling man even more, which probably accounted for why she hadn't been able keep her temper in check. Still… it felt great, satisfying even to bring Riley to his knees. A smile bloomed on her lips at the thought of finally getting rid of the big oaf once and for all. Of enjoying what was left of her visit to London in the company of someone that was so much more to her liking. The smile was replaced by a frown then followed by a mortifying blush staining her cheeks when Mr. Giles clear his throat and a sudden realization entered her mind.

_Uh-oh._ What if he'd witnessed her… well, unladylike display? It was completely justified, but still… Oh God, if he had, what must he be thinking of her now? She dreaded opening her eyes for fear of finding sheer accusation in his, but she couldn't keep them closed all the way to Spike's house, wherever that might be, could she? No, she couldn't, even if she really, **really** wanted to.

She finally focused her gaze on Mr. Giles, who was watching her from the rearview mirror, his expression not one of condemnation at her behavior, but rather amusement and was that… pride?

"You handled that very well back there, Miss Summers." He winked at her and she couldn't stop her smile from reappearing even wider than before when her fears were laid to rest. "I was about to go back inside and intervene, but then I realized you didn't need my help."

"Well, I usually avoid these kinds of situations, but sadly I don't think Riley would have understood any other way."

"I think you are quite right, Miss. Although if you'll allow me, I would advise you to be careful in the future, who knows what that man might be capable of."

"You think?" He nodded. "Nah, he's just a big bully and after being humiliated like that in front of everyone at the hotel, I'm sure he'll think twice before approaching me again."

_'I do hope for your sake you're right about that,'_ Giles thought, wondering if perhaps he should tell Master William about the occurrence. Miss Summers seemed untroubled about the whole affair, but she hadn't seen the man's face as she walked away. He did however and he hadn't liked what he saw, not one bit.

---------

Riley furiously paced the length of his office; the image of Buffy walking away from him and then climbing into that car fueling his rage as he did so. Did she honestly think he would stay away from her because of what she'd done to him? Never! She had a lot to learn and he would be forced to teach her a few things... namely that she was his. HIS and, no one else's, now more than ever after her little display. And she would understand it soon, no matter what he had to do to convince her. Women like her needed to be put in their place and once he did, she would be compliant and grateful.

-------------

"And here we are," Giles said, stopping the car in front of a huge, black wrought iron gate before pressing a button to open it and driving through.

Buffy wasn't sure what she'd expected to find when they entered the estate, but what she saw was so much more than she could've ever imagined.

Her eyes widened as she looked at the enormous garden surrounding the paved road to the house. It was filled with all kinds of beautiful flowers, plants, bushes and trees blending into an explosion of colors the likes of which she'd never seen before. And the house… God, no, not house, the castle-like mansion in front of which they were stopping now was magnificent. She could only imagine what kind of wonders its walls hid.

Completely in awe at the beauty of Spike's home, she stepped out of the car with Mr. Giles aid and began walking up a set of stairs that led to a portico under which she saw Spike waiting for her.

---------

He stood in mute admiration as he watched her ascend the stairwell. She looked more radiant, more beautiful every time he saw her. How was that possible? Perhaps it had to do with the fact it was the first time that he'd seen her in the sunlight. Or perhaps it was just because it was her. As it was, she would have taken his breath away, if it were at all possible.

She saw him then and the light radiating from her smile made him feel as if his heart would start beating any minute now. Almost making him forget that he couldn't join her where she stood under in the sun. Almost making him forget everything that wasn't her.

He couldn't forget, though. Not completely. He could pretend to be someone else, but he couldn't forget what he was. He couldn't forget what ultimately would separate them, would force him to give her up.

Buffy felt like she was soaring as she neared him, a smile illuminating her face. He was looking at her like… she was someone worthy of being cherished, someone worthy of being… dare she say… _loved?_

Was it possible to feel she was destined for a man she'd just met? Yes, her heart answered without hesitation though she had no reference with which to compare this feeling to. She'd never felt anything like this before, not once, not for anyone, not until she'd met **him.**

He remained where he stood and waited until she reached him to take her hand in his, bring it gently to his lips then placing the softest of kisses on it in a way reminiscent of their first encounter.

"'Lo, love. I trust you haven't made any other plans, because 'm officially sequesterin' you…" he paused for effect, looking as if he were considering for how long he was going to keep her here with him while delighting at her sharp intake of breath and quickening of her pulse. "At least for the day. I've something very special planned for us. You don't mind, do you?" He tilted his head to one side, watching her intently while awaiting her reply.

Mind? God, he could kidnap her for the rest of her life for all she cared. As long as he was right there with her, she wouldn't want for anything else. Of course she couldn't tell him that, so instead she replied, batting her eyelashes at him, "Well, that depends on what your plans are for me, Mr. Wellington."

_Saucy minx._ "You'll just have to wait and see then... won't you, sweetheart?" He winked flirtingly.

"I guess," she feigned indifference, all the while returning his smile. "I have no choice."

"Then, by all means, allow me to escort you inside my humble abode so we can start our day?"

"Humble? I don't think I've ever seen anything as magnificent as your house."

"You haven't seen anything yet, darlin'," he said as they entered through the front door.

tbc

Like, dislike? If you feel inclined to tell me, I'll love to read your comments and answer them as best as I can. ;)

Also, I'm not sure when the next update will be. I'm awfully busy at work and my parents invited me and my daughters to spend the weekend in Antigua Guatemala, a colonial city in my country and just about my favorite vacationing spot, so I'll post as soon as the next chapter is ready. Hopefully you won't have to wait too long for it.


	7. Chapter 7 NeoImpressionism

Author's Note: I'm so very sorry for the delay on posting this. Life has been… hectic to say the least and my muse disappeared for a little bit. She's back now, though, (finally) and with the aid of my lovely ImbloodyEnglish who came to my rescue, next chapter is almost halfway done, so it shouldn't take me as long to post it as it took me for this one.

On very good news, I'm still in awe TAoI won for Most Original Plot at the Feeling Love Awards. It was such a lovely surprise and I want to thank each and every one that voted for this story. smooches

As always, thank you to all of you reading and especially to AutumnSoleil, lilred-07, ivy, J and unafraid666 for reading and reviewing. I want you to know I appreciate you taking the time to let me know what you think of the story.

Thank you to my sweet ImbloodyEnglish, for being there for me, especially yesterday when I was feeling so moody and for all your help with this story. snuggles And of course to my lovely friend Tammy, for reading the chapter and assuring me it wasn't as bad as I thought.

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_Chapter 7. Neo-Impressionism_

Monet, Renoir, Matisse, Picasso, Van Gogh... Buffy almost couldn't give credit to her eyes as she recognized some of the paintings decorating the walls to Spike's home. He'd been right when he'd greeted her on the portico, she hadn't seen anything yet. If his house had seemed magnificent from the outside, inside it was… well, simply spectacular.

However, it was neither the art nor the house which made her breath hitch in her throat, her pulse quicken or her heart skip a beat... not at all. It was the man walking by her side and that had yet to relinquish his hold on her hand. Not that she was complaining. Far from it. If anything, the way he was always touching her whenever they were together gave her hope that whatever was happening between them wasn't one sided. That it was real.

She reveled in the way he intertwined their fingers together, stroking her skin with his thumb in an absentminded fashion, how soft his skin felt against hers belying the underlying strength she knew to be there, how her hand fit so perfectly in his as if they were two halves of a whole, two sides of the same coin.

Funny thing that, he mused threading his fingers through hers as he led her towards the tea room, he'd never considered himself the kind of man that would enjoy human contact as much as he was right now. Now with Buffy, though, he couldn't get enough of it, of her. The simplest things, her hand grazing his by accident, a whiff of her perfume or the adorable way she scrunched her nose when she was trying to concentrate only made him crave for more. He was hopelessly addicted to her; completely unable to stop himself from touching her in any possibly way, in any form she would allow.

She was light whereas he was dark; she was soft, curvaceous whereas he was all hard planes and straight lines. She was more than a creature of the night such as himself deserved, more than he'd ever dreamed to have and it was killing him to know it had to end. Much as he'd like to keep her forever, he couldn't, more for her sake than his. He simply couldn't bear to taint her purity, her radiance… with his darkness.

The question was for how long would he be able to refrain himself from trying to; especially when every one of her smiles, touches or looks sent his senses reeling into overdrive, enough to almost make him forget why he was still fighting this.

"Here we are," he said, stopping in front of a heavy oak door and smiling at her. "Thought we could have brunch before I showed you the rest of my paintings, unless you're not hungry yet?" Just then her stomach growled loudly, reminding her that she had forgotten to eat breakfast in her haste to be ready in two hours. Completely mortified and not wanting to witness Spike's amusement—or God forbid, his disdain—at her predicament, she lowered her head to hide the blush staining her cheeks beneath the curtain of her hair.

_She is too bloody adorable,_ he thought, placing a finger under her chin to raise her head until her eyes rested level with his before leaning down to kiss her nose. "You don't have to hide, darlin', not from me; gotta love a girl with a healthy appetite." He winked at her and she couldn't stop the smile blooming on her lips at his choice of words. She sighed and probably would've swooned right then and there if he hadn't pushed the door open and led her into the room. As it was, her legs weren't too steady under her, so she thankfully sat in the chair he'd pulled out for her.

It was only then that she noticed her surroundings. Crystal chandeliers hung from the ceiling, dark red velvet drapes over the windows and a small mahogany table elegantly set for two lay in the center of the room, full with all sorts of hors d'ouvres and canapés that smelt just about as divine as they looked.

He sat in the chair next to hers and smiled indulgently at her childlike enthusiasm for food.

"So, what's your fancy, sweetheart?"

"Hmmm, do I have to choose?" She pouted slightly.

He chuckled, took a plate in his hand and placed several pieces on it. "Nah, I guess we could have one of each like the last time."

"Works for me." She beamed at him as she received the plate and started eating. Her eyes closed as she savored one of the canapés while moaning in delight. "Mmmmmm, this is exquisite."

His eyes darkened to a stormy midnight blue, fixing covetously on her mouth as she ate. He barely managed to stifle a groan at her actions, his manhood hardening almost painfully making him shift his position on the plush chair to ease his discomfort. The little mewls she was uttering and the way she was practically making love to her food with that luscious mouth of hers positively drove him mad with desire. She had no idea what she was doing to him of that he was sure. And that only made his lust for her grow to the point where he became jealous of the goddamned food.

He wished he were the one making her sigh like that. Making her moan, mewl, pant, gasp as he explored her body with his hands, lips and mouth, savoring her essence until she creamed on his tongue, thrusting inside her welcoming warmth until she cried his name out over and over, drenching his cock with her heavenly juices. Until nothing else existed but the two of them and the world they could encounter within themselves.

"Spike?" Buffy waved a hand in front of his face. She'd noticed his distraction as she reached to pick at another morsel, the way his eyes glazed over as they focused on her mouth and the look within was so… intense, so... passionate, that she couldn't stop the shiver of longing that commanded her body. "Spike?" she repeated breathlessly.

Her voice finally pierced through the lust clouding his senses. He blinked as if waking up from a dream, his azure gaze focusing on the green depths which mirrored the want he knew was reflected within his own. He reveled at the near imperceptible shudder that ran through her; and took an unneeded breath, only to be rewarded with the fragrant aroma of her burgeoning arousal. Suddenly they weren't close enough for his liking; he craved her like he'd never craved anyone or anything before. He needed to taste her, devour her, discover for himself if she was nearly as sweet as she appeared to be.

Unable to resist, he leaned forward until their faces were just a breath away, looking from her eyes to her mouth, his gaze settling on that lower lip that he longed to run his tongue over, imagining how it would feel to take it between his teeth and nibble on it.

She was drowning in the ocean blue of his eyes, in the way he looked at her, made her feel as if they were all alone in this universe. Food completely forgotten and powerless to stop herself, she inclined her head as he neared her, anticipation for what his mouth would feel like over hers overwhelming. Her eyes fluttered shut, heart galloping wildly inside her chest as his breath tickled her face.

He was a second away from claiming her lips with his when he heard someone clear their throat loudly in the room—someone that wasn't either of them and that he knew all too bloody well—which made him freeze in midair. He closed his eyes warring with himself whether to acknowledge her presence or say the hell with it and kiss Buffy anyway. He knew the damned woman wouldn't leave even if he decided to go forth with the latter. With an aggravated sigh he sat back in his chair. Running a hand over his face, he tried to regain some semblance of control over his libido, ruefully missing the warmth that being so close to Buffy brought him.

Buffy slowly opened her eyes, confusion swirling atop the emerald depths when the kiss she was expecting never came. In fact, Spike was nowhere even near her, he was resting back in his chair now, watching something by the door. Had she imagined it all?

She twisted in her seat to follow his gaze and found a middle-aged woman standing by the entrance, smiling at them while she held a tray filled with what looked like pastries. Where had she come from? Lost as Buffy was in her fantasy world, she hadn't realized they weren't alone anymore.

Amusement danced in Anne's eyes at the annoyed glares and confused looks she was receiving from William and his guest because of her untimely interruption.

Rupert told her that Miss Summers was beautiful as well as resourceful, but what he meant by that second comment he'd refused to elaborate on no matter how much Anne begged. Damn man! So, she'd taken it upon herself to investigate and that's when she'd found them about to kiss. It hadn't been her intention to interrupt… at first, but then her maternal instinct kicked in. The need to meet the girl that had Master William so… besotted overwhelmed her until she couldn't resist the urge to make sure the girl was worthy of the man she loved like a son.

And so far, she could see her husband hadn't lied. The girl was as beautiful as her Rupert had claimed, but that wasn't all. She had a radiance that emanated from within her very soul that seemed to brighten everything around her, including William, even if he wasn't too happy now because of the disruption.

It wasn't as if the interruption came as a surprise for Spike. Not really. As it was, the one thing that had been a shocker for him was that Anne waited this long to appear. He half-expected to see her lurking in the hallways, waiting for the right opportunity to introduce herself to Buffy and see if the girl was good enough for him. Resigned that the moment was effectively ruined, at least for now, he stood and walked towards the older woman to help with the tray she was carrying. Almost sorry he did because of the infuriating smile and wink she gave him when he reached her.

Spike sighed again, this time conceding defeat. He knew his housekeeper wouldn't leave until she did what she came here for, so it wouldn't do to either ignore her or wish she'd disappear. He took the tray from her hands and together they approached Buffy.

"Buffy Summers, may I introduce Mrs. Anne Giles, the person responsible for makin' this magnificent meal and keepin' everything in the house runnin' like a well-oiled machine." _Even if she can be a bloody pest when she wants to. _

Anne blushed and smiled brightly at the girl, pleased by Spike's praise and already feeling a bit guilty for disturbing their little moment. "Flattery will get you nowhere, boy." Spike bristled at being called a boy, but remained silent. "It's a pleasure to meet you, Miss Summers. I hope you're enjoying your stay in our country?"

"Good morning, Mrs. Giles. It's so nice to meet you, but please, call me Buffy." She offered her hand to the smiling housekeeper who quickly extended hers as well. "And yes, I'm enjoying my visit very much, thank you. In fact, I've recently discovered a love for many British… things. Especially…" She glanced meaningfully towards Spike who was following the conversation with interest. "…the food. It's simply superb. I'll truly miss it when I return to the States."

Spike couldn't shake his disappointment over Buffy's answer. Logically he knew he shouldn't be feeling anything of the sort. Still, logic always seemed to take a step back or ten whenever his golden girl was around. He **was **disappointed; he wished she'd said she loved... No, no, no, NO. What was he thinking? Was he insane? Very probably, he answered himself just as quickly. Insane with lust for a tiny scrap of a girl that had robbed him of his will; of his desire to shut himself off from everything that wasn't his art.

The longing in Buffy's eyes as she gazed at William wasn't lost on Anne, even if the girl tried to downplay it with her comment. And the way he was looking back at her, well, she'd never seen him so smitten with anyone. He kept to himself most of the time, locked away in his studio painting. This girl had brought him out of his self-imposed exile, had brought light into this house and into his life. An idea began forming in her mind. Yes, it could actually work, if he didn't decide to be headstrong about it, that is.

"Gotta love a girl with a healthy appetite; don't you agree, lad?" Anne said, winking playfully at her boss.

"I said that first," he grumbled under his breath, pouting slightly.

"Perhaps you could come back sometime soon so I can teach you how to make these?" She addressed Buffy, nodding towards the canapés on the table.

"Really?" Buffy's hopeful smile lit up the room but abruptly waned when a sudden thought entered her mind. "I'd really like that, but I wouldn't want to impose—"

"Nonsense, you'd hardly be imposing. Would she, Master William?" she asked, her tone deceptively sweet, one that suggested there'd be hell to pay if he didn't agree.

He smiled widely as he picked up on Anne's question **within **a question, but he didn't mind at all. In fact, he thought it was a bloody brilliant idea and would have to thank Anne later for suggesting it. "Not in the least. Miss Summers is welcome here... anytime she likes." The possibility of having Buffy at his home again, even if he had to share her with Anne, warmed him. How could he not agree?

"Well, how can I resist then?" Buffy beamed at them, happy for the chance Anne had provided her with of seeing Spike again and getting to know more of the delightful woman in front of her at the same time.

"It's settled then, Miss… Buffy," she amended when she remembered the blonde's earlier request. "Perhaps we can decide on a date later today. Now if you'll excuse me, I have to get started with lunch." She smiled, unloading the tray she'd brought and left the room.

"Mrs. Giles is such a lovely woman," Buffy said once Spike joined her again at the table and they continued eating. "You're very lucky to have her and Mr. Giles here with you."

"She does have her moments," he agreed. "And yes, I'm quite fortunate. They've been in this house for what feels like forever sometimes and just yesterday on others. They're pretty much the only family I've got left."

"Aww, I know how that is. Although I don't really have anyone like them, I have some very good friends back home."

"Just friends?" She nodded. "I remember you mentioned your mother at the exhibit, but I'm quite certain you didn't say anything about your father."

"Let's just say he's not a part of my life anymore, nor would I want him to be," she replied wistfully, trying to think of something else to say, anything, so long as it wasn't about her father or her relationship with him, or rather, the lack thereof. "I hope you weren't cornered into accepting before?" She wanted to kick herself as soon as the words escaped from her mouth, but she'd been unable to stop them.

"What do mean, love?" He raised his left eyebrow inquiringly, truly at a loss to what she might be referring to.

"Uhmm, regarding the cooking classes Mrs. Giles offered? I just don't want you to feel… erm, obligated to have me here."

Have her here? Christ, if that didn't make him entertain some very interesting ideas that had his cock straining against his zipper once more. "Oh, I don't know, somehow I don't think I'd mind… what was it? _Havin' _you here... whenever you want, sweetheart."

There was no mistaking his meaning, not after he waggled his eyebrows and did that thing with his tongue that made liquid heat rush through her veins and stain her cheeks flush pink once again.

"Oooh, stop doing that!"

"Doin' what, sweetheart?" he replied with as much innocence as he could muster.

"Making me blush, that's what. Stop it. I mean it," she chastised him before pouting.

There goes that glorious lip again, he groaned inwardly. For all her innocence, it was positively sinful what she did to him with it, what he wished he could to do to it, to her. And what's more, she had no idea at all how attracted he was to that air of innocent allure that radiated from deep within her.

"Sorry, darlin', no can do. I enjoy watchin' the roses bloom in your cheeks too much for that." He took her hand in his and brought it to his lips. "It makes you look lovelier than any earthly creature has a right to be. You wouldn't deny me that pleasure, now would you??"

Oh God, that was so not fair. As if she could refuse him anything he asked while he was looking at her like that, causing tingles to spread from her hand to every nerve ending, while he spoke to her as if she were precious to him. Not sure of her ability to talk, she just shook her head no.

She looked breathtakingly beautiful as she stared back at him, the purity of her soul shining so brilliantly in her emerald eyes that he felt his undead heart constrict within his chest. He felt as if he were standing on a ledge, on the precipice from falling into sweet oblivion. And for once he was tempted to do just that, until common sense clamored to be heard above his heart's desire.

He glanced down at the table, noticing they'd finished most of the food already. "If you're finished, perhaps we could continue with what I've planned for the day?" With any luck, and with no more interruptions, he added to himself from either of the Giles.

"Lead the way," she replied with a smile, thinking she couldn't wait to find out what other surprises he had in store for her.

tbc

Your turn, like, dislike? Tell me, pretty please? I'd love to know.


	8. Chapter 8 Romanticism Part Two

This chapter was co-written with my darling friend, ImbloodyEnglish, who also beta'd it. When we first started plotting this story, IBE told me about a scene she'd dreamt upon and hoped to write someday, she thought it would be perfect for this story and graciously offered to let me write it. Of course I accepted, how could I say no to that? Then, when the time came, I was more than a little gun-shy about writing it, but with her help and the lovely vision of the scene she imagined, we finally beat this chapter into submission for your reading pleasure. We do hope you enjoy it.

A little observation, on chapter 5, at the end scene I mentioned that Spike was pacing the length of his studio while talking to Anne, please disregard that and pretend I wrote 'library', okay? You'll see why after you read this chapter. ;)

As always a thousand thanks to everyone reading, especially to SerenityCasada, lilred-07 and J, knowing that you're enjoying this story, truly makes my day brighter. And thank you to Tammy, for the read-through. hugs

_Chapter 8. Romanticism (Part Two)_

He watched her as she carefully inspected his works. How could he not? She was gorgeous, radiant… effulgent. He was drawn to her like he'd never been drawn to anyone before. So much so, he couldn't stop looking at her, touching her whenever she was nearby… which was often. There must be a God somewhere that was smiling down on him for once because she was so very receptive to every one of his touches; seemed to thrive under the attention he bestowed her.

"So… your verdict, milady?" Spike asked when she stood in front of the last painting. She'd been awfully quiet the entire time they'd traveled through the impromptu exhibition he'd mounted for her in the library and he was anxious to hear whatever she had to say about them.

"You painted all of these?" she answered his question with her own before turning to look at him.

"Yes, I did." He nodded. The look she gave him was priceless.

"They're… I don't think beautiful is a strong enough word to describe how-how **amazing** they are. Each one," she raised a hand to the last piece they stopped at and ghosted a finger over the surface without actually touching it. "Every color, every stroke…"

He watched her become almost mesmerized as she struggled with her words. She looked genuinely captivated by his work and he couldn't keep his chest from puffing up proudly that she truly liked them, appreciated them that much.

"How do you do it?" she asked, her tone filled with awe. He cocked his head to one side as if he didn't understand the question.

"Do what, pet?"

Was the man unaware of just how magnificent his work really was? "This," she pointed to the painting then waved her hand towards the rest. "All of these? Every one is so… full of emotion, of **life**."

So full of **life**? Now there was a true compliment. His life, or un-life as it were, was anything but alive **or** full. But right now, here with her, he felt as if it was, as if he were... complete.

She turned, taking small steps to close the distance between them. He found himself holding an unneeded breath when she slowly lifted her hand to his face, stopping within inches of his cheek.

His work, his paintings, **he** called out to her on every level imaginable and she couldn't keep from reaching out to him, from wanting to connect, to discover what lay beneath the surface of this beautiful man.

"How is it," she whispered. "That one man can have so much passion, pour so much of himself into his creations and yet still keep so distant from the rest of the world?"

She looked him in the eyes, capturing him completely and he felt trapped within her searching gaze, as if she were seeing him for who he was for the first time rather than simply trying. He closed his eyes against the searing heat of her palm as she gently cupped his face. Her touch was so innocent yet felt so very intimate, it made him want nothing more than to pull her to him, claim her mouth with his own and sample the honey of her lips. Instead, he placed his own hand over hers and nuzzled against her warmth, heedless of how it burned him to where his soul would have been had he one to burn away.

She saw a hint of vulnerability in his expression and found it odd. This man who normally projected a commanding presence, one of strength, confidence and assuredness suddenly seemed to crave nothing else except her approval. His Adam's apple bobbed right before he opened his eyes and pressed a kiss into her palm, so soft and at the same time so firm and demanding.

"Have you ever painted before, Miss Summers?" he asked; his voice rough with emotion. She blushed sweetly and ducked while answering him.

"I'm afraid I don't have what it takes." She felt him lower her hand but he didn't release it.

"Don't have what it takes? Now how could a woman who obviously has such a clear and undiluted understandin' of art have no talent?" Her eyes snapped up to meet his again, her cheeks still pink with embarrassment. "I find that hard to believe. Is it that you've never tried?"

"No," she shook her head almost imperceptibly. "I tried… once, but was told the results were less than satisfactory."

"Less than satisfactory?" he echoed, his temper rising at the thought of anyone telling this lovely creature something like that, squashing her first attempts at creating art. "Accordin' to whom?"

"Erm, my art teacher in high school?" she squeaked.

_A bloody art teacher!_ He seethed, his demon flashing behind his eyes for just a moment before he reined in his mounting ire. It was no wonder though, he knew the type well. Bigoted fools every single one of them, many lacked true talent of their own and refused to consider art anything outside what their petty little minds thought it was. He'd kill the git in an instant if he could just for what he did to Buffy, to hell with trying to make up for his past sins.

She observed the emotions playing on his face after her confession; her eyes traveled over his face and noticed the way his jaw clenched, his teeth gritting and she swore, for a fraction of a second, that his clear blue eyes had shined amber. That had to be a trick of the light, though, because that couldn't be, now could it?

He refocused on her once he felt in control of his anger, an idea suddenly springing to mind, one in which he hoped he could coax her into and that with any luck would erase from her mind any doubts she might have about not being talented enough. "I think you should try again. Perhaps with me by your side, as your guide, you could... let yourself go, create something beautiful for me?" His suggestion instantly set her face aflame and he was enchanted. "If you'll indulge me, that is."

She nodded despite her hesitancy that he might end up regretting his offer. She felt she could fly if that's what he asked her to do, felt as if she could do anything with him at her side and she couldn't let the opportunity of learning from a true artist go to waste, now could she? Still holding her hand, he began to lead her, walking backwards. "Come."

"Wh-what? You mean... now?" she asked, her eyes wide as she realized he was very serious about this. He chuckled while cocking his head to one side. "I'm not so sure-"

"There's no reason to be worried, love. Please?"

_Oh God,_ her knees felt weak. Never mind the way his full bottom lip jutted to pout teasingly at her, it was the 'please' that did it. With his deep, pleading tone, she'd do whatever he wanted. "Okay."

His mind was working at breakneck speed as they walked down the long hallway towards his studio. He hadn't planned for this but what did it matter? He wanted to keep her here for however long he could and she seemed more than willing to stay.

He was taking her to his special place, to a very sacred place where only **he** entered. The thought of allowing another person, **her**, into this room where he painted the world the way he saw it, felt… **right** somehow. It was his refuge, his safe haven, the one place he felt most free, where he could be himself without worrying about anyone judging him.

He never imagined he'd ever find someone he wanted to share this room with. Never imagined he would trust anyone as much, let alone someone he just met. Buffy wasn't just anyone though, and he knew sharing it with her would be something special all in itself.

They stopped before a huge wooden door. Its intricately carved patterns were unlike all the other doors they'd passed suggesting whatever holdings lay beyond were highly prized indeed. He let go of her hand long enough to pull what looked like a skeleton key from his pants' pocket and unlocked a very large, ornate brass bolt. The giant door swung open slowly, creaking heavily on its hinges. What lay inside took her breath away.

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Anne and Giles were walking towards the library after he finally confessed what he'd meant by calling Buffy 'resourceful'. Needless to say, when he'd related what he'd seen afterwards, how that man had looked at her, had caused his wife to worry over the possible consequences the girl's actions might have, so she had insisted they tell Master William as soon as they could.

However, intent as she was to talk to her boss, it all came to a sudden halt when she saw the door to the library open. She pushed her husband into a hidden alcove near the wall and put her hand over his mouth to prevent him from asking what on earth was wrong with her as loudly as his eyes were. Not that Buffy or Master William would have noticed them even if he had, lost as they seemed to be in one other as the girl followed him toward… No, it couldn't be... could it?

Husband and wife gazed in disbelief at the couple about to enter the studio. They could hardly trust what they were witnessing. No one entered that room, no one but Master William. It was **forbidden**. He even cleaned the room himself so no one would disrupt him from his painting, from whatever measure of peace he found inside. And now he was allowing Buffy in there? It could only mean one thing and they both knew it. Anne smiled at Giles. Yes, the girl was very special to their master, even more so than they could have imagined. It was silent confirmation of their suspicions that she could be 'the one' for their Lord. Quietly, they ducked out of sight, knowing this was a private moment for the blonde pair, one neither of them would dare or wanted to interrupt.

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Rather than speak, Spike bowed graciously while making a sweeping gesture forward, bidding Buffy to enter and walk about at her leisure to inspect the vast area and all its contents. He was quite pleased to see her face light up with wonder and respect when she'd realized where he'd taken her to.

Still in the doorway, she inhaled deeply, enjoying the strong smell of paint and turpentine. The fainter scent of cigarettes and whisky made a tantalizing blend with that of the man standing next to her, making her head spin.

Trying to concentrate on anything that wasn't Spike or her growing desire for him, she finally stepped into the room and walked to stand right in the middle, slowly turning around to take everything in. It followed the same elegant lines the rest of the house did. Tall, triple vaulted ceilings with twin crystal chandeliers and large windows from where the light seemed to pour into the room.

There were a few differences though, the ceramic tile covering the floor was of a different color and pattern than the one she'd seen every where else and there were no drapes covering the windows, she imagined, to maximize the use of day light. Only a few pieces of furniture lay about, a black leather sofa placed right next to a set of French doors that led to a balcony; two tables settled on opposite sides of the room, that appeared to hold every art supply imaginable and a small circular table with a few glasses and a decanter on top, filled with something that looked like whisky.

A few easels were scattered throughout the room, all holding canvases in various stages of painting. She moved toward those with interest, delighted that she had the opportunity of seeing how the creative process of making each one of his pieces evolved, layer after layer, each more beautiful than the last.

Interested as she was by them, it was the last one—the only one covered by a large white sheet—that captured her attention. "May I?" she asked, pointing at the huge canvas, her curiosity well beyond piqued as she imagined what lay beneath the cloth.

He shook his head. He'd give her anything her heart desired, but to let her see what he felt would be his magnum opus before it was finished? No, that was something he just couldn't do, not now at least, not until it was finished. "I'm sorry, kitten. I'd give you anythin', even... even eternity, if you asked it of me." He was well aware how dangerous it was to speak to her like this, but he also knew that deep down inside... he meant it. A small pout began forming on her mouth at being denied her request and, knowing it would be his downfall, added in haste, "I can promise you, though, as soon as it's finished, you'll be the first to see it. Will that suffice?" He took her hand in his, raising it to his lips for a tender kiss.

_Eternity,_ she sighed inwardly. There was a nice thought. If it were possible, what would she give for the chance of spending it with him? Anything... everything.

"Ooooooh, I don't know," she breathed dramatically, making a show of it but melting when he smiled. "I guess that'd be okay, as long as you finish it before I have to go back home?"

"That's not goin' to be a problem, 'm pretty much concentratin' on that one for the moment." And wasn't that the absolute truth? He'd been unable to think of little else but the subject of that particular piece. "How about we see to those lessons now?"

She nodded eagerly, her hesitancy from earlier having disappeared at the prospect of creating something that she could give him to remember her by once she left. Although deep inside she prayed that day would never come, that somehow these two weeks would turn into forever, because she already dreaded the thought of a life without him. How could she not, when he'd given her a glimpse into his world, allowing her into his home and sharing so much of himself with her?

He led her to one of the tables, which held a rather large variety of oil paint tubes, jars and canisters filled with the tools of his trade… palettes, spatulas, fan brushes, angular brushes, large brushes, brushes with tips so fine as to add minute details to make his paintings come to life with vibrancy.

"Lesson the first." Taking a shirt he'd pulled from a drawer beneath the table, he helped her into it then walked to stand in front of her and began buttoning it from the bottom up.

She was shaking like a leaf as his hands hovered over her body, feeling as though she were about to drown in his scent as it enveloped her like a warm embrace. He wasn't touching her, not really, but the electricity running through her every nerve, every cell as she breathlessly watched his hands slowly fastening each button made her feel like he was.

He couldn't prevent his hands from coming into light contact with the tops of her breasts under the guise of pinning the last button in place, nor reveling over her sharp intake of breath and the way her nipples puckered in response by the time he finished. "Always wear something to protect your clothes, just in case there's any spill." He winked, arranging the shirt's collar before framing her face in his hands and kissing the tip of her nose. "By the way... you look gorgeous dressed in my shirt, kitten." Of course she'd look even nicer if it were the **only** thing she was wearing. Better yet, _if you were dressed in nothing but me. _

_His shirt?_ Shivers ran up and down her spine at his actions. She felt she was about to explode with desire under his heated stare and the sweet kiss, all the while fighting herself from bringing the shirt closer to her nose and inhale deeply.

Reluctantly, he let go of her face, refraining from kissing her like he was oh so tempted to. Especially with the way she was looking at him now. However, he'd promised her art lessons and art lessons she would have.

"Lesson the second." He turned them to face the table. "Know your tools." He picked up a palette, chose several brushes and laid them in front of her. "Do you know what each of these are for?"

"Y-yes," she replied, while eyeing them doubtfully. "Well, at least some of them… I think."

"Right," he smiled. "How about we do a quick recap then?"

"That sounds very good." Relieved didn't even cover how she felt now that he'd provided her with the chance of getting acquainted with the items she didn't even know existed before today. Then again, how could she have known there could be so many different kinds of brushes?

"Well, this here is a spatula," he picked a knife-like instrument from the small pile and handed it to her. "It's generally used for scrapin' or mixin' the paints. It can also be used to add different textures to the piece you're workin' on. It can produce different effects to the paintin', like if it were tri-dimensional." He glanced at her and noticed a small frown marring her features as she concentrated on what he was telling her. He sighed, deciding it might be best to just show her how to use the damned things and skip the academic crap altogether. "You know what, love? Sod the lessons. I have a much better idea. I think a hands-on demonstration will serve you better than a lecture."

Spike smiled at her look of confusion and picking another shirt from the same drawer, donned it quickly before carrying an empty easel, a canvas and a small retractable table to the center of the studio. He then walked back to the table and under her vigilant stare, grabbed several tubes of paint and deposited small dollop of each onto the palette. Next, he filled a metal container half way with turpentine which made her nose scrunch up adorably. The last thing he did was to gather all the brushes plus the spatula, place them in a small canister, and bring everything back to the small table he'd placed beside the easel.

Her knees almost buckled when he treated her to one of those sexy smirks of his that always left her breathless and then crooked a finger, beckoning her to come closer. God, she'd gladly follow him to the ends of the earth if he only asked. With carefully measured steps, she advanced toward him, grasping the hand he'd extended as soon as she was within reach.

"Choose a brush… whichever you like, sweetheart," he added at her inquiring look.

"How about—" she said inspecting the brushes in the canister, before selecting an angular brush. "—this one?"

"Perfect." He picked up the palette. "Now choose whatever color first comes to mind and go with it."

"Go with it?"

"Yes, you'll see what I mean in a few minutes. But first, choose a color and dip your brush in it lightly."

"Okay. Let's see…" She bit her lower lip as she observed the colors in the palette. They were all quite vivid and pretty, but she'd always been partial to red, so that's the one she chose.

"Red… the color of passion... my personal favorite," he purred in her ear, making her shiver from head to toe. "Excellent choice, love."

He clipped the palette to one side of the easel and the metal canister on the other, making them easier for her to reach whenever she needed then guided her in front of the canvas. Positioning himself behind her, he placed both hands very gently on her shoulders and spoke in a deep honeyed tone. "I want you to take a deep breath for me, love. A nice, long, deep breath and then let it out."

She did as he asked; trying to concentrate on his instructions rather than the effect his nearness was having on her body.

"Good. Very good. Do it again, sweetheart. Just one more time... for me."

She sighed before doing so, her eyes fluttering as she fought not to close them while his voice wreaked havoc on her senses. Inhale, exhale; that was easy enough, wasn't it?

"Beautiful. Perfect. Now... close your eyes. Close your eyes and concentrate on my voice... only the sound of my voice."

_No hardship there either_, she thought, her eyes closing as she let his voice wash over her, into her.

"Leave all your thoughts behind, clear your mind. Thinking has no place, no value right now."

Not even thinking of him? Now that was difficult, especially with him being this close, she could hardly think of anything else, let alone thinking about **not** thinking.

Then, leaning in close to her ear, he whispered. "Forget whatever is in here." He lightly tapped her temple. "And take what's in here." He placed his hand over her heart, which he noted began beating harder.

"All that matters right now is what lies here. Whatever you're feeling... right here... right now... embrace it, let it build. Become one with it. Allow your emotions to take over." He ran his palm from her chest up over her shoulders, hooking his fingers gently underneath her arm to raise it and trailed his hand along the full length with his fingertips to stop at her wrist. "Let it flow through your arm, your wrist, your fingers and pour what you feel into the brush, onto the canvas."

He led her hand until the tip of the brush touched the white cloth. "Now open your eyes and paint what you see in your heart, love."

She made a line, marveling on how the brush glided over the canvas while she allowed all those wonderful feelings Spike elicited in her to run through her, before dipping the paintbrush once again into the red paint and starting all over again.

"Like this?" she asked, turning slightly to look in his eyes. She gasped at what she saw swirling within those blue depths; appreciation, pride and something else that she didn't dare name... yet.

"Yes, exactly like that, love," he replied, marveling at the way she looked at him, the way she got lost in his eyes just as he did in hers, he couldn't get enough of that. He felt… as if his soul had been restored to him whenever she looked at him like that... like he mattered. He could willingly fool himself into thinking he was worthy of her but reality would come crashing back to earth when he remembered what he was... the very reason why he **had** to give her up when these two weeks ended. He shook the gloomy thought out of his head and returned his attention to Buffy who had turned back to the canvas once again.

She continued painting, letting him walk her through each stroke, mesmerize her with every instruction he whispered in her ear. He said he wanted her to dig deep within herself and allow the feelings she found there to drip into the paint and color the canvas. But what did she feel right now? A swarm of emotions.

Fear... that she would become lost in the man now standing behind her and he might not feel the same way she did. Excitement... from being so close to him, from the contact of his skin moving against hers, his proximity bringing her to such heightened levels of physical arousal she was half-afraid he might notice how sensitized, how aware her body was of him. Her nipples had hardened into tiny spears that if she hadn't been wearing his shirt he wouldn't have been able to miss and God, her panties were absolutely drenched just by the sound of his voice murmuring in her ear and having him this close. If that was her reaction to something as simple as **that**, she could only wonder how it would be if he actually kissed her?

He was getting drunk from her presence. In the way she unconsciously leaned back against him while she painted, in the scent of her glorious hair as he nuzzled into it without her, hopefully, noticing, in the way her heart sped up as he guided her, praised her, touched her. And the more he did it, the more he seduced her with his words, with his caresses, the richer the scent of her arousal became. He inhaled deeply, allowing it to fill his nostrils, to excite his demon and set his nerves on fire, his blood racing through his veins and swelling his loins, driving him absolutely out of his mind with lust.

Like a good student, Buffy followed his directions, listened to his words, taking them in and understanding their importance. She wanted to please him, earn his smiles of approval. She basked in the attention he was giving her, loved how he looked at her... like she were the only woman on earth worthy of his attention. She was drowning in him, in the shower of his affection, adoring every minute of it, craving it.

She sighed dreamily as his voice washed over her like silk. Could he even imagine the effect his words were having on her? How it made her want to **show** what she was beginning to feel for him as a person... as a man? How she craved the friction of his body against hers? How she wished she could stay here, in this room, with this man, for the rest of her life? She'd never felt something as powerful, as all-encompassing as what she was feeling for Spike. And she was willing to do whatever it took, whatever she needed to do, so she wouldn't have to give it... give him, up.

The more she painted, the more she showed him what was buried inside of her, the deeper he fell. She made love to the canvas, making him jealous of her brush as it caressed the white cloth as one caressed a lover, as he longed to caress her, while she imprinted it with the colors of her soul, of her heart, of her emotions.

She poured all of herself into the painting, trying to convey without words the feelings he stirred within her. Longing, fear, desire and more, so much more that she ever imagined she could feel for anyone.

He coaxed, cajoled, seduced her with his touch and words, encouraging her to let her true feelings emerge. He wanted her to want him, to need him as much as he needed her, whatever qualm he had over tainting her innocence with his darkness completely forgotten right now in lieu of his overwhelming passion for her. Which made what she painted next hit him square in the chest.

If she could just pick one, choose one of the many ways she felt right now to show him, but... She focused on the one that kept coming back to her, kept calling her.

With a bold strike of the brush to the canvas, she drew one hard, broad, long line of **passion. Passion** was what she felt right now... about him... for him. It was a combination of everything that swirled in her mind until it all came together in a revelation.

The knowledge of what he saw, of what she was feeling as she laid it before him in red nearly brought him to his knees. _Passion._ There was no doubt about it, she felt passion for him. It was right there for everyone to see, for him to see. And every part of him felt the same way about her. He could feel it in his blood, in his undead heart, in every fiber of his being.

He never imagined the power behind the feelings that ran through him now upon seeing her mark on the canvas, never imagined he'd **want** to share himself, his life with anyone else more than he did right now in this very moment... with her. And he was determined to do it, to enjoy every minute of it. Enjoy every second he could spend with this woman. Cherish it, savor it, embrace it and live it.

"That's it. Feel for me, pet. Don't worry about what comes out. Let the paint tell the story. Show me what it is your feeling right now. Put in front of me. Let me see... make me understand what lies deep within you... I want to know your heart."

She felt is breath tickling her neck as she painted, his hard body pressed to her back, his hand trailing oh so slowly up and down her arm, his voice captivating her, lulling her until nothing else existed but them. Nothing else mattered but this moment and how close she felt to him. Closer than she'd ever felt to anyone. And yet, she didn't feel it was close enough. She wanted more, **needed** more... needed him. Overwhelmed by her desire, she trusted her instincts, just as he'd told her... and let her emotions guide her. The brush dropped from her fingertips, her head and body turning into his arms and pulled his mouth to hers.

A deep moan erupted from his throat when she placed her lips to his. He hesitated for only a second before taking control of the kiss, grabbing her around the waist and crushing her body to his.

tbc

Okay, your turn now, I'd love to know what you thought of this chapter, if you are inclined to let me know.


	9. Chapter 9 Romanticism Part Three

Sorry for the delay in updating this story, but my muse needed a break after being completely focused on it for so long. It's an intense story and it does take a lot out of me to write it. However, I have to say it seems the break did the muse good, since a new turn has her (and me) all excited, so much so, I think I'll be focusing solely on this one for a few chapters. crosses fingers

Thank you, bookaholic503, lilred-07, SerenityCasada, unafraid666, J, emeraldgray, vintage demigoddess, The Gryffindor Drummer, amocnrn and Tru Jones, your lovely reviews. I truly appreciate each and every one of them, even if at times I don't answer them as fast as I should. Knowing you're enjoying this story and letting me know, makes me a very happy girl.

Thank you to my lovely ImbloodyEnglish, your help is invaluable to me. (snuggles) And to Tammy for the read-through.

_Chapter 9. Romanticism (Part Three) _

_A deep moan erupted from his throat when she placed her lips to his. He hesitated for only a second before taking control of the kiss, grabbing her around the waist and crushing her body to his. _

He concentrated on her lower lip first, the same one that had driven him out of his mind so many times, nipping at it lightly before running the tip of his tongue over it. Taking advantage of her small sigh, he gained entry inside the moist cavern of her luscious mouth to feast on her sweetness.

She was barely able to draw in a ragged breath before his tongue slipped between her lips, taking full possession of her mouth. It seemed as if he wanted to devour her as the nimble organ danced over her teeth, the inside of her cheeks then finally tangled with hers. Her hands slid over his strong arms to wind around his neck, threading her fingers in his soft locks as she completely lost herself to the moment, submitting to the mastery of his kisses and the wonderful sensations coursing through her body.

His hand skimmed over her breast on its way to tangle in her glorious mane, delighting in the silkiness before tugging on it lightly, angling her face so he could savor her like a fine wine. Her flavor enticed him, inflamed his senses and set his blood ablaze.

God, she'd dreamt of this ever since their eyes met from across the room at the Royal Academy and now she realized her dreams couldn't even remotely compare to the reality of being in his arms, of being kissed by him. He tasted of power, of strength, of something uniquely... him, instantly transforming her into an addict from the moment their lips met. He was everywhere, surrounding her, embracing her, holding her, seeping through her skin until there was nothing left but him.

He was intoxicated by her, drowning, falling, the control he prided himself on shattering as his fingers slid up and down her back, feeling every delicious stroke of her tongue against his all the way down to his shaft.

She felt so bloody good in his arms, her supple body molding perfectly against his. It'd been so long since he felt anything like this, if ever. He felt as if his heart were about to begin beating in unison with hers. His hands settled on her hips momentarily before sliding downward to cup her gorgeous bottom, fondling her as he pulled her impossibly closer to his aching groin.

She felt slightly lightheaded and more than a little dizzy, but she attributed it to the desire this man instilled in her. She was on fire; her panties uncomfortably wet against her swollen sex, making her crave his touch, him. She couldn't stop herself from lowering her hands to his waist for leverage as she ground against the erection pressing into her stomach.

In response to her actions, he tightened his grip to her buttocks, growling as the heady scent of her arousal filled the air and his control slipped even further. Christ, but she was scorching him, searing his insides with her warmth, unraveling his will completely. He was sure she would render him dust if he took her now, but to be buried deep within her heat, to feel her from the inside... what a sweet death that would be.

Her heart thundered in her chest, her blood roaring with lust through her veins in response to his low, dominating growl. He sent every part of her body ablaze, even her lungs as the lack of oxygen began to become an issue. _But who needed to breathe any way?_ she rationalized. Breathing was SO overrated, especially when doing so would stop this wondrous kiss.

He was in heaven, or as close to it he would ever be allowed. Having her like this, responding so passionately to his kiss, to his caress, he could almost fool himself into thinking he could keep her with him forever. Into thinking nothing else mattered but this, them.

She suddenly sagged against him, her legs having given way beneath her, pulling him away from the haven of her mouth. Only his preternatural reflexes prevented her from falling to the floor as she fainted. It was then he noticed her struggle to breathe, her chest heaving as it fought to fill her lungs with much needed air, even if she was still unconscious.

Calling himself all kinds of a fool for forgetting her body's need to breathe, he carried her to the sofa with the utmost care, laid her down, hovered over her, listening to her heartbeat and watching for any sign of distress, uncertain if he should call Anne or Giles or both to help him. He was about to do so when her lashes fluttered as she gradually regained consciousness.

Slowly, she opened her eyes, not sure what had happened to her at first, not until they settled on the deep concern tingeing the blue depths that stared back at her and then she remembered being submerged in pure bliss right before it turned into black obscurity. _Damned need for oxygen,_ she sighed, miffed that her body gave out on her and a little curious why, if she'd been so affected, he hadn't been. But she promptly forgot about that when he kneeled by her side, took her hands in his to pepper them with kisses.

"You worried me. You're alright, aren't you, love?"

"Wow, that was some kiss," she said, not even listening his question, her eyes still glazed as she looked at him in awe. Never had a kiss had such a colossal impact on her. Then again, she'd never been kissed by anyone quite like him. Not that she wanted to compare anyone with Spike.

"Guess we shouldn't do that again unless you're sittin' or layin' down, should we?" he smirked, a teasing gleam in his eyes replacing the concern that had been there seconds ago. Buffy fainting because he kissed her was quite a novel concept to him and although that might have more to do with lack of air than his expertise in that particular arena, it still made him fairly proud of himself to witness her reaction afterwards.

"We shouldn't try what?"

"Kissin', it seems to have some very interestin'… effects on you." He purred, making her blush fiercely.

"That… that was just…" she began, wracking her brain for some plausible excuse.

"My sinister attraction?"

Yeah, that sounded about right, but his ego was healthy enough as it was. She was about to answer him when she saw the huge grin cracking his face and realized he was messing with her. "You're evil!" she pouted.

If she only knew. "Oh pouty, look at that lip. Gonna get it, gonna… get it," he said, his eyes darkening as they lustfully zeroed in on the protruding flesh, leaning forward to do exactly that. He worried it between his teeth, tenderly nipping at it, his tongue gliding over it before hers came out to join his.

He didn't allow himself to be swayed by passion this time; instead he focused each and every one of his enhanced senses on her, being careful to pay attention to her need to breathe.

This kiss was gentler, softer, its intention to basically reassure them both where they stood regarding the other. Nothing more, nothing less.

He rose from the floor and helped her to sit before joining her then pulled her onto his lap. She leaned her head against his shoulder, her fingers lacing through his, both of them rejoicing in this newfound sense of intimacy, of being so close to the other without the need to fill the silence with nonsensical words as they connected on a deeper level.

She didn't know how long they stayed there like that nor did she care. It felt… right, being here with him, in his house, in his studio, sharing this… whatever it was growing between them. But even the word 'right' didn't seem the correct way to describe it. More like... meant to be.

He relished this moment she gave him, delighted in the way she molded against him, in the soft kisses they'd traded; committed it all to memory, imagining how things could be were he anything else other than what he was.

She wanted to know more about him, needed to. He'd shared part of himself with her already but she felt the need to know more, to know it all.

"It must have been lovely to grow up in a house like this, isn't it?" she asked.

He was taken by surprise at her question, they'd been silent for a while and he hadn't expected it, but answered nonetheless, "Yes, it was."

"I imagine a house like this must have lots of secrets, doesn't it?"

_Oh, more than you can ever imagine, love._ He chuckled. "Some." An idea as to how they might continue with the tour of his house suddenly formed in his mind. "How would you like to learn some of them?"

She turned in his lap, looking at him with wide, excited eyes. "Really?"

"Really, matter of fact…" He glanced towards a clock hanging on the wall, seeing they still had about an hour left before dusk to do some exploring. "…we could go now if milady wishes."

"Well, how could I possibly say no to that, my lord?" She rose from the sofa and pulled him with her, her whole being bubbling with barely contained excitement at what she was sure would turn out to be a wonderful adventure. "Let's go, I simply love learning secrets."

_She is so bloody adorable,_ he thought, smiling indulgently at her bouncy enthusiasm while he led her to the farthest wall in the room. "Now, pull that lamp in front of you a little to the right, won't you, darlin'?"

She looked at him questioningly but did as he asked, her eyes widening in wonder when the wall swung inward, revealing it to be a door. Where did it lead? She was about to go in and find out when he stopped her.

"I think it might be best if I go in first," he explained. "It's been a while since anyone's been inside and who knows what sort of nasties you'll find in there."

"Nasties?" she gulped. "Like what?"

"Cobwebs and such. Don't worry; I'll protect you if we find a big bad spider along the way," he teased when he noticed her hesitance.

"Ha! We'll see if I won't be the one that ends up protecting you, Mr. Wellington," she winked.

He laughed heartily. "Feisty li'l thing, aren't we? I like that in a woman," he whispered seductively in her ear, enjoying the way her heart rate increased. Picking a fuel lamp up from the floor, he turned it on and extending his free hand to grab hers then added, "Now, follow me, sweet Buffy."

_To the ends of the earth,_ she thought before stepping into the dark tunnel after him.

"These tunnels must be quite old, aren't they?" she asked, unconsciously moving closer to him as she watched him swipe some rather big and creepy cobwebs out of their way with the lamp. "Turn of the century, perhaps?"

"Think farther back, love," he chuckled. "They were built 'round the time of the religious persecution here in England, in the sixteenth Century."

"Really? Wow. And the house? Was it built then, as well?"

"Yes, they were built at the same time. The manor's undergone some renovations throughout the years, of course, to keep up with the times, but the tunnels have remained virtually untouched since their construction. And to my knowledge, very few know of their existence."

"Can you get anywhere in the house through them?"

"Almost anywhere, most of the main rooms have an entrance to the tunnels which end at the stables. And there are even a few rooms that have two sets of tunnels; one that leads to this passage and another that only connects through them."

"Interesting. And why is that?"

"I imagine they might have been used so the lord of the manor could visit his mistress at night without being seen by the servants."

"You don't say. And have you ever used those tunnels for that purpose?"

"Not yet." He smiled, flattered at the jealousy that laced her tone.

"Yet?"

She must have blinked, zoned out in the darkness surrounding her, how else could she explain how fast he'd moved? One second he was in front of her, lighting the way and holding her hand and the next he was behind her, moving her hair out of the way before leaning in to purr beside her ear, "Yes, if you were to… say, spend the night, I'd be hard-pressed **not** to use them with that intention."

"Is that an invitation, Mr. Wellington?" she responded coyly, a shiver running down her spine in response to his nearness.

"You don't need one, love. Mi casa es su casa."

"Be careful with what you say you could end up regretting it," she said half-jokingly.

"Regret what? Havin' you here in my house, makin' it seem brighter with the light of your loveliness? I don't think I could ever regret that, darlin'." _If anything I'll probably regret not being able to keep you here with me forever,_ he added for himself.

Was the man determined to make her faint again? Her knees felt more than a little wobbly after that declaration and she was suddenly very happy he was behind her to support her weight.

"Alright, but when I take you up on your offer and then decide I don't want to leave, don't come crying I didn't warn you."

"Who says I'd want you to leave?" He pressed a kiss to her cheek, embracing her from behind while thinking how far off she was. If anything he should be the one warning her that he might feel inclined to keep her here with him and never let her leave, although to be fair, he just did, didn't he?

"Now, how about we make our way to the kitchen? Join Anne for supper? Or perhaps, you'd like to dine in the same room we did before?"

"Oh, I'd love to join her in the kitchen. If that's alright with you?"

"'Course it is." He smiled, taking her hand in his and pulling her towards the next exit. "Would you mind staying with her for a few minutes? I have to prepare a little something for later."

"More surprises?"

"Perhaps."

"Good, I like surprises. I don't mind staying with her. Maybe I can persuade her to let me help with something in the meantime."

"You do that," he said, pulling the chain that made the hidden door open and allowing her to precede him out of the tunnel. "It won't be too difficult to convince her, she already likes you. It seems you've managed to conquer us all."

Buffy stumbled over her feet when she turned to face him after hearing his last words.

"Easy, love, we don't want you falling, do we?" he said as he steadied her by placing a hand under her elbow.

Too late for that, at least for the type of falling she kept doing whenever she was with him, especially when losing herself in his bluer than blue eyes. She shook her head, more to clear it than to answer him before stepping out of the tunnel.

Buffy was temporarily blinded by the bright lamps illuminating the room they found themselves in, blinking until her eyes adjusted to the light after their impromptu exploration. Once they did, she noticed they were in a hallway and not a room like she'd thought at first. It was similar to the ones they'd used earlier when they walked about the house. The only difference was that there weren't nearly as much artwork hanging on the walls in this area. The few that were, though, were as wonderful as the rest had been. He had quite a collection and she hoped they'd have time to see it all.

Spike took her hand in his again and led her to where she imagined was the kitchen. They passed a large mirror on their way and she couldn't stop herself from glimpsing into it to see how they looked together, almost stopping in her tracks when she didn't see him at all.

She shook her head slightly; sure she was seeing things. That had to be it, her eyes were still adjusting and that's why she'd seen, or rather not seen his reflection. It wasn't possible for him **not** to have appeared in the mirror, so she passed it off as her eyes playing tricks on her.

Unaware of what was going through her head, he led her into the kitchen where they found Anne taking a freshly baked loaf of bread out from the oven.

"Good evening, Master William, Buffy." She smiled and curtsied, observing them with interest, obviously intrigued when she noticed them holding hands and seeming more comfortable around the other than they were earlier. "Would you like me to serve supper already? I'll have everything ready in a few—"

"There's no hurry, Anne, there's something I need to take care of first," William said, raising a hand to stop her.

"William and I thought we could eat here in the kitchen with you and Mr. Giles; if that's alright with you?" Buffy asked with a shy smile.

"Of course, we'd be honored to have you dine with us," the housekeeper replied, trying to hide her surprise at the request. Although William occasionally joined them for dinner, she hadn't expected today would be one of those days.

"Anne, do you know where Giles might be? I need to speak to him."

"He said he was going to be in the stables, Master William. Do you need me to fetch him for you?"

"No, there's no need. I'll find him myself. Would you mind entertaining our guest for a few minutes while I do?"

"But of course, I'll be very happy to have her company," she smiled at the girl who returned the gesture.

"Thank you, Anne. I'll be back before you have a chance to miss me, love," he added, kissing Buffy on the cheek then leaving the room.

Buffy had a dreamy smile on her face which changed into a furious blush when she noticed the housekeeper's attention set upon her. "I… uhmm, errr… do you need help with anything?" she rushed to ask, trying to shift the woman's interest from herself. "Or perhaps I can…" She turned towards the table at her right, very relieved when she noticed it still wasn't set. "Set the table?"

The older woman chuckled, deciding to let the girl off the hook… for now. There'd be enough time to talk with her about this new development when she came for her cooking class. "Alright, you can help me with that. Come, I'll show you where the plates are."

-----------

"What do you mean **he** grabbed **her**?!" Spike exploded, his eyes flashing from amber to stormy blue and back again as he tried to rein in his temper. "And you didn't intervene?"

His reaction made Giles dread telling him the rest of the tale. It wasn't as if he had a choice in the matter, though. Anne was right, as always. Master William needed to know Miss Buffy could be in trouble so he could take the adequate measures to protect her.

"I was about to, Master William, but it turned out Miss Buffy didn't need my assistance. She defended herself quite well especially considering the size of the man… well, groping her." He chuckled remembering how well the girl had taken care of the pillock, only to sober immediately when he heard the possessive growl that tore from his Lord's throat.

"Who was he? Who dared touch Buffy? Tell me… NOW!" he roared, his demon face coming forth in temporary rage.

"I-I'm not certain, Sir. Although I-I think she said his name w-was Riley," he stuttered, a frisson of fear running through him at being confronted with the irate Master Vampire.

Riley. Was that the man that escorted her to the exhibit? It didn't matter. Whoever he was, he would find him. Any man with nerve enough to touch HIS woman, force their presence upon her would pay... dearly. No one messed with what was his, no one. He'd do anything, absolutely **anything**, to protect her. To hell with atoning for his past sins. He'd commit a thousand more in her name. Nothing mattered to him more than her, HIS Buffy.

"There-there's something else, Master." Giles swallowed hard at the angry glare directed at him, before continuing, "The man, after… when Miss Buffy walked away from him, I-I noticed the way he was looking at her and I-I warned her. Sh-she thinks he won't approach her, but I'm afraid he might be the kind of man that doesn't take no for an answer, especially considering the way she, well, handled matters."

Spike clenched and unclenched his fists, trying to control himself, his demon. He couldn't very well enter the kitchen in the state he was in, but he couldn't stay away either. He needed to see her, reassure himself she was alright. Feel her, touch her, kiss her. She was **his**, dammit! HIS. No one else's.

Without sparing a glance to Giles, he ran out of the stable towards the house, intent on one thing alone. Finding Buffy.

-------

Buffy leaned on the kitchen's isle near the entrance, laughing at the latest story Anne shared with her. She reminded her so much of her mother and all the lovely times they'd spent together at her house in Sunnydale. She hadn't realized she missed having this sort of… camaraderie, until now. And she had Spike to thank that for.

"Alright, dinner is almost ready, just the final touch and voilá," Anne said, opening the refrigerator and rummaging inside as she looked for the last ingredient. "Buffy, would you be a dear and remove the sauce from the stove?"

She was about to do just that when an unseen force grabbed her arm, yanking her through the swinging door with such astonishing speed she didn't have time to blink let alone scream.

"Buffy?" the older woman asked. Turning back to where she'd last seen her standing, only the door to the kitchen greeted her, swinging on its creaking hinges. _Where did she go?_ she thought.

tbc


	10. Chapter 10 NeoRomanticism

Author's Note: See? I wasn't lying when I said muse was very focused on this story for the moment. ;) Actually, I'm quite surprised at how quickly the chapter flowed once the muse decided it was time to write. (giggles) Of course it didn't hurt that while I was writing I was also chatting with my darling friend, ImbloodyEnglish. She provided some delicious lines for me to play with and kept me on the right direction when my muse cornered me. Thank you so very much for all your help, sweetie!

Thanks: unafraid666, J, TeaBag, Susan The Reader, rogue, bookaholic502, SerenityCasada, The Gryffindor Drummer and Kabbit, and to those of you that are still with me in this venture. For your patience and your kind and very encouraging words; I can't begin to express how much they mean to me. And to Tammy, especially, for the read-through.

This story has been nominated for Best Plot and Best Spuffy Love on Round Two at The Feeling Love Awards and for Best WIP, Best Romance and Best Fantasy on Round Four at Spark and Burn Awards. Thank you to the kind person(s) that nominated me. It makes me very happy to know you feel my story is worthy of being nominated. smooches

_Chapter 10. Neo-Romanticism_

She was flying. Quite literally. Her feet barely touched the floor while being dragged down a long corridor. Everything blurred past her at a dizzying speed and the only thing she could make out was the shock of white blond hair of the man currently hauling her towards some unknown destination.

She was unsure what was going on, but for the moment it was easier to just close her eyes and let him lead her wherever he wanted. Easier and at least she'd have a fighting chance against the wave of dizziness that threatened to overtake her.

One thought overruled all others in his mind now that he had her in his grasp. To stake his claim over her. Man and demon united in this purpose single-mindedly, both with clear intentions on the woman trailing behind him. She had been in danger, still could be according to Giles and he wouldn't have known until it was too late had she not managed the situation on her own. What was worse, it could happen again and if it did, she may not get so lucky. He couldn't, **wouldn't** allow any harm to befall her. Not while he was around to prevent it.

He pulled her into one of the rooms they neared, uncaring which it was, closing the door behind them before pressing her against it. His eyes roamed her face, anxious to reassure himself she was truly alright, even if logically he knew she was. This was quite a new experience for him, this overwhelming need to protect another, this deep concern for someone's welfare. He couldn't remember the last time he felt like this, if he ever did. No, it had never been like this, both man and demon concurred. Never.

By all rights she should be furious or at the very least nervous over this… well, Neanderthal act. He'd yanked her through the kitchen door, hauled her down who knew how many hallways, and effectively stolen what was left of her breath after crushing her between a door and his hard body. She was well aware that had it been any other man, she would have been irate. Had it been any other man who'd done this to her, she would have fought tooth and nail or knee as she'd done to Riley. Had it been any other man she would have found a way to free herself. But he wasn't just any man, he was the one she desired... more than anyone else she ever had in her past.

She finally opened her eyes and found herself lost amidst a swirling vortex of endless blue and burning amber; and she couldn't summon the will to fight, to escape from his arms when the only thing she wanted was to submit, to surrender to him and whatever demand he wished to make upon her.

His mouth crashed down upon hers; effectively drowning every thought that wasn't centered on him under an overwhelming wave of desire. It seemed as if he was devouring her, branding her, burning her. As if he wanted to make sure she realized who she belonged to. As if there could be any doubt in her mind when her body automatically responded with a passion that rivaled his.

His hands expertly cruised over her curves, molding it to his, caressing her, arousing her to a fevered pitch while his lips drank every little sigh, moan and pant that clawed at her throat.

Spike's need to possess her, mark her as his grew with every heated kiss they shared, every swipe of her tongue, every movement of her body against his. He couldn't get enough of her, couldn't get close enough **to** her.

His lips left hers, nibbling down her jaw and throat, stopping to suckle her pulse point. He could feel her blood singing beneath her soft skin, calling to him on the basest of levels. It would be so easy. _All too easy._ 'It would be the perfect solution', his demon whispered… to claim her, bind her for all eternity to him. _Yes, make her mine._

He felt the tight grip he exerted over himself slip, his features changing and his canines elongating as he practically salivated over the idea of claiming her, of keeping her with him forever.

She moaned lustfully, her hands coasting over his shoulders, her fingers burying themselves within his hair as she pulled him closer to her neck, unknowingly offering herself to him. Blissfully unaware of what was going through his head; of how close she was to a demon, to the man who was rapidly losing control.

Strangely enough it was her uninhibited response that brought clarity to his mind, reminded him why he **couldn't** claim her, even if sorely tempted to. He had no clue as to what might happen to her if he did and he… he cared too bloody much about Buffy to want that for her. She was too pure, too radiant; he couldn't taint her, he couldn't damn her to a life without light.

He pulled away, turned his back on the temptation of her body, of her blood as he forced his demon to recede and return to his human façade.

Buffy blinked as she suddenly found herself devoid of his lips and arms. She wasn't sure what just happened. One moment he was kissing her as if his life depended on it and the next he was as far away from her as possible while still being in the same room. Had she done something wrong? Because he most certainly hadn't. As kisses went, this was the one that stole her heart instead of her breath this time. Perhaps he was unsure of her reaction to his caveman impersonation? Well then, were that the case or not, some reassurance might be in order here.

"At the risk of sounding like a broken record, wow... that was some kiss." She winked at him when he turned to set a pair of surprised blue eyes on her. "May I ask what I did to bring that on?" _So I can do it again… and again… and again,_ she added to herself.

"I... uhmm," he cleared his throat twice before continuing. "Felt like I'd been away from you for too long." Not exactly the truth, but not entirely a lie, either. "'M sorry. Hope I didn't upset you with my behavior?"

Upset her? The only thing that was upsetting her was that he'd stopped. "Well, that depends," she answered coyly, watching him from beneath her lashes, a soft smile playing on her lips.

"Depends? On what?" Encouraged by her conduct, he advanced a few steps towards her and stopped; tilting his head while he waited for her answer, intrigued over what she might require of him, but similarly knowing he'd do anything she asked. Hell, he'd tie himself to a crucifix if that's what she wanted.

She crooked a finger at him, beckoning him closer which he immediately obeyed, unable to resist, to stay away for longer than he had already.

"On this." She grabbed him by the collar of his shirt when he was finally within reach and pressed her lips to his.

It was unlike any kiss they'd shared so far. This time she was the one in control and he didn't mind one bit. It was softer, almost… playful, but no less intense or passionate. She was driving him crazy as she ran the tip of her tongue over his bottom lip before sliding it inside his mouth to deepen the kiss. Then she proceeded to tease him, drawing him in and retreating until he managed to capture her tongue with his, engaging it into a heated dance while he drowned in the richness of her flavor.

"Mmmmmm, you're forgiven," she said, untangling herself from his arms with a giggle when she noticed his dazed expression. Good, she thought, now he knew how it felt. Unable to restrain herself though, she gave him a quick peck on his lips before taking his hand in hers and tugging him after her after opening the door. "Would you take me back to the kitchen, kind sir? I don't think I can find my way in this huge house and I'm pretty sure Anne must be wondering where the hell I disappeared to." She batted her eyelashes at him coquettishly, adding, "Perhaps after dinner you can show me that surprise you mentioned earlier? I can't wait to see what it is."

"Ahem, right... sure." He followed her out of the room and into the hallway, grumbling good-naturedly, "Bossy chit."

"You know you love it."

_More than you can imagine. _

The trip to the kitchen took longer than she expected which was weird. It hadn't felt as if they'd walked that far. Perhaps he was taking a different route than the one they'd previously used? It wasn't like she'd been able to see much when he'd hauled her down the corridor, hell bent on kissing her senseless.

They joined Giles and Anne in the kitchen; sharing side glances, smiles and small touches throughout dinner that had the older couple looking at each other with raised eyebrows.

They'd been concerned with Buffy's disappearance right after Master William had ran from the barn, especially since according to Giles he'd been "pissed as hell" when he did. The last thing they'd expected was to see the blond couple enter the kitchen a little while later hand in hand and laughing with no trace of the ill-tempered Master Vampire in tow. Matter of fact, neither of them ever witnessed him acting this way with anyone. Not that they had many female guests to compare the situation to and in the time they'd been at this house, he'd never shown a romantic interest in anyone.

Until Buffy. She was like a breath of fresh air, a sparkling ray of light that had turned their Master's life completely upside down. And it was obvious the girl was as besotted as he was. So what if she didn't know he was a vampire? Anne had a feeling Buffy may not mind if he decided to tell her, or at least she hoped she didn't.

Once they finished dinner, Spike led her outside towards the barn. He stopped her right before they entered, standing in front of her to shield her view then leaned in to whisper in her ear, "Close your eyes."

"What?" she asked.

"Close your eyes, my surprise won't be as surprising if you don't."

"So you say." She pouted, but did as he asked. A smile tickled her lips when she felt the small kiss he deposited on the tip of her nose before taking both of her hands in his and pulling her forward.

He swore he felt his heart was about to start beating with excitement when she closed her eyes tight. The trust she showed by allowing him to lead her into the unknown, with her eyes closed no less meant more to him than he could have dreamed possible.

He was falling… harder and faster than he ever imagined. How would he ever give her up when it was time to? _No, don't think about that now. Focus on the present, on her._

Once inside, he scanned the area until he saw his surprise waiting; smiling when he found everything to be just as he'd asked Giles.

"Open your eyes, love."

She did as he asked, unsure what to expect considering his secrecy. She blinked in surprise when her gaze landed upon the most gorgeous black horse she'd ever seen, saddled up and ready to go.

"Oooh Spike, he's so beautiful." She walked towards the animal, her hand raised to let the creature smell her hand before softly touching his nose and then the shiny black coat. "What's his name?"

"Azabache."

"What does it mean?" She tilted her head to regard him, a little frown on her face.

"It's Spanish for intense black."

"Hmmm, yes, it fits him. So, is he the surprise?"

He chuckled. "In part. I thought you might enjoy a horseback ride under the moonlight."

"I wouldn't be opposed, that's for sure. Is this part of the tour?"

"No tour would be complete without showin' you the grounds, now would it?"

"Wouldn't it have been better in the daylight?"

"Perhaps, but there's the inconvenience of a slight allergy I have to the sun." The kind that was lethal when exposed.

"Really? Allergy to the sun?" That's… weird, although it might explain the paleness of his skin.

"It's quite sad."

"Oh, I can only imagine." She left the horse's side to near him, hugging him at the waist as she tried to offer him comfort. It must be horrible to live without being able to walk in the sun.

"Yeah. If the rays ever touched my skin, I'd go up in a puff of smoke... like a vampire," he said in a teasing tone. He knew he was playing with fire, in more ways than one, but he couldn't help himself.

"Argh, you're… you're incorrigible." She slapped his arm and sniffed, turning away from him. "And here I felt bad for you."

"Jus' wanted to know if you cared."

"You only needed to ask and I would have told you."

"You would've?" He raised an inquiring eyebrow. Interesting.

"Yes. I would have… before. Now, I won't."

"Perhaps I can convince you?"

"We'll see how you behave. If your surprise is worth it, I might still tell you."

"Fair enough, milady." He winked and bowed. "Your… chariot awaits."

"Chariot?" She giggled, looking from him to the horse and back.

"Well, it may not be a chariot, but it's the perfect excuse to keep you close to me while we ride," he said, a positively predatory glint in his eyes and a sexy smirk on his lips as he climbed on the horse, extending a hand for her to join him.

Slightly breathless as her body reacted to his words, she put her hand in his, feeling the extent of his strength when he hauled her up effortlessly and settled her in front of him. She was in heaven. His strong arms stole around her when he grabbed the bridles; his scent mingling enticingly with that of the horse; his firm chest pressing to her back as she leant into his embrace. Heaven, or as close to it one could be on Earth.

The 'tour of the grounds' had taken them a little over two hours already and Buffy was almost as enamored with the estate as she was of its owner. They rode through what seemed like acres and acres of very fertile land, which under the glow of the moon and stars illuminated their path, making it shimmer like a dream.

She fell deeper and deeper under his spell with each passing moment, his voice lulling her, mesmerizing her as he whispered little nothings in her ear. The way he treated her, everything he did made her feel special, as if she were precious to him. And she couldn't get enough of that feeling, of him. How on earth was she going to bear giving him up when the time came to return home? _No, don't think about it, not now. Concentrate on the time you still have. A million things could happen between now and then._ Or so she hoped.

Spike slowed the horse when they reached an area surrounded by trees and when they went through them, she couldn't help the surprised gasp that escaped her lips. She shook her head in wonder. It had to be a mirage. No place could be as beautiful as this. She felt as if they'd stepped right into the pages of one of those fairytales her mother read to her when she was a little girl.

He helped her dismount from Azabache and while he tied the animal to a tree, she stepped into the meadow silently, cautiously, not wanting to disturb the peaceful atmosphere that reigned inside. The grass under her feet felt like velvet as it tickled her ankles, rippling under the slight breeze that blew from across the lake that sat in the middle of the clear. The moon glistened overhead, illuminating the still surface of the body of water that reflected the scant clouds across the sky like a giant mirror.

She started when Spike placed his arms around her shoulders, so engrossed had she been with her inspection of this amazing place.

"So… what's the verdict, love? Do you like it?"

"I love it. This place is so beautiful, almost… ethereal," she replied, turning into his arms and standing on her tiptoes so she could kiss his cheek. "Thank you for sharing it with me, for giving me this perfect day, for the surprise, for everything."

He swallowed the lump of emotion that clogged his throat at her words. How he wished he could share it all with her… forever. "There's still one more surprise, come with me."

He led her under the huge oak tree where he'd laid a tablecloth over the grass, hoping she'd enjoy the wine he'd chosen to bring along with a variety of crackers and aged stilton.

"How, when?" she asked, raising disbelieving eyes at him.

"I brought it in the saddlebag and settled it while you were walkin' 'bout." He shrugged nonchalantly.

"What, with your magic wand?" He couldn't possibly have done all that so fast—she hadn't taken that long… had she?

"Well, pet, you were very distracted with the view when I found you, perhaps you just lost track of time?"

"Perhaps," she responded, although she had the feeling there was more to it than mere distraction on her part. She wouldn't dwell on it though, not now.

He helped her to sit and while she arranged the skirt of her sundress around her primly, served them each a glass of vintage Port wine, handing her one before sitting by her side, leaning against the giant trunk.

She sipped on her wine and while not a connoisseur, she immediately noticed it was of great quality. Not that it came as a surprise. With an estate this size and worth, she could only imagine the size of the cellar he must have with all kinds of expensive and rare wines stored in it.

She picked up the bottle to read the year and couldn't help the impressed gasp that left her lips. "Fonseca, 1955. Damn, this Port's older than me! Older than you, for that matter."

He almost choked on his wine at that. If only she knew. "And how old are you, love?" he asked instead.

"A lady never reveals her age, sir." She batted her eyelashes at him. "How old are you?"

"Old enough to know better."

She pouted. "Hey, that's not an answer."

"What? You didn't answer me either."

"That's so not fair."

"You should have thought about that when you decided not to tell me."

"You're evil!"

"Oh, baby. You have no idea," he answered in a low seductive purr that made her visibly shudder from head to toe. He smirked knowing perfectly well the reason for it, but refrained from saying anything to that respect, thankful for having an excuse to pull her into his arms as he added solicitously, "Are you cold, darlin'?"

She nodded, burrowing in his embrace. No way would she admit to what really caused her to shudder.

They stayed like that for a while, cuddling, sipping on their wine and eating, enjoying their time together in this magical spot.

When he moved to serve them another glass of wine though, she watched him from beneath lowered eyelashes, hiding her mischief-filled eyes from him and asked, "Are you trying to get me drunk, Mr. Wellington? So you can have your wicked way with me?"

"And what would you say if I was?" He enjoyed her playful teasing, but her answer bordered on the serious when she whispered her reply.

"You don't need to." She took another sip of her glass then gave him a saucy wink.

Christ, was she trying to kill him? His cock, which had been in a pleasant sort of semi-arousal state, had suddenly hardened to painful proportions at her comment. "You're playin' with fire, little girl," he all but growled.

"Perhaps I want to get burned."

He had to muster every ounce of self-control he possessed not to pounce on her then and there, instead answering, "When the time is right, pet, I think it's safe to say things will get... heated enough to burn both of us." He winked back at her, delighted in the adorable way her cheeks flushed in response.

It wasn't that he didn't want her, Lord knew he did. But one didn't live as long as he did without realizing timing was everything. He chuckled to himself, it was almost ironic… time being everything. Time meant little to him. Until he met her. He treasured every minute, every second he spent with her. And if she allowed them to become intimate, he wanted it to be perfect. Not here out in the open woods, no matter how idyllic a place it was. She was too precious for that. She deserved a romantic rendezvous with champagne and candlelight, a nice comfortable bed, **his** bed. But not on her first visit, not when everything was going so perfectly. He refused to ruin what they were building for anything.

"When the time is right," she agreed, settling herself back in his arms again. She was somewhat disappointed he hadn't taken her up on her rather… well, brazen offer, but at the same time… God, what he said, the way he said it, it warmed her heart in ways she never imagined. It gave her hope that she meant something to him, that she was not just a passing fancy, that his feelings might run as deep as hers were beginning to.

Time ceased to exist, neither of them worried over how long they remained there, neither of them wanting the night to end. _It has to, though,_ Spike thought as he watched Buffy try to stifle a yawn.

Knowing they couldn't delay the inevitable any longer, they rode back to the manor and after promising Anne she'd be back in a couple of days for her cooking class, Giles drove them back to her hotel.

She sighed miserably when Spike helped her out of the Bentley, wishing the hours until she saw him again would go by quickly. He hadn't even left and she already missed him.

"Perhaps… hmmm, you will allow me to call on you tomorrow? Or rather," he said, after a quick glance at his wristwatch, "later today so we can do something?" Do anything, go anywhere, he didn't rightly care, as long as he could have her in his arms again.

"I'd like that." She beamed at him.

"It's settled then, love. Now give us a kiss and I'll bid you good night," he said, winking at her before claiming her lips with his in a passionate kiss.

From inside the hotel, a dark figure watched as Buffy arrived with the man he'd seen at the gallery a few days before. With mounting ire, aided in great measure by the large quantities of alcohol he'd imbibed throughout the day at the establishment's bar, he observed them talk, the flirtatious way she smiled before they kissed.

How dare she? She was **his**. His and his alone. He almost went out there to yank her out of the man's arms. Almost. But it was neither the time nor the place. Not yet. He'd make her realize just what a stupid thing she'd just done. Perhaps sooner than she imagined.

tbc

I'm not sure when I'll be updating this story, since I'll be trying to divide my time between the 3 WIPs I'm currently writing (including SSS, which I'm co-writing with my sweet IBE). We want to have at least a couple chapters ready of that one before posting, since we don't want you to wait that long between updates.

Anyway, I hope you enjoyed the read and as always, if you feel inclined to tell me what you thought of it, you'll make me a very happy girl. ;)

Have a great weekend!


	11. Chapter 11 Abstract Expressionism

**Warning: This chapter contains ****attempted rape and violence. Although it's nothing too graphic, I advice you to proceed with caution.**

I know I said I was going to focus on my other WIPs for the moment, but I guess muse wants what muse wants and it seems she wants to finish this story since we're so near the end. Just three or four more chapters, unless muse decides something else.

This chapter was quite difficult for me to write, although it has been plotted to be like this from the beginning, I never envisioned that when the time came it would take so much out of me.

I want to thank all of you that keep reading and reviewing. It truly makes my day to see that you're still here with me. smooches

A huge boatload of thanks to my lovely ImbloodyEnglish. For your patience, your time and all your help, darling, there are no words for how much it and above all you mean to me. smooches And to Tammy, who kept reassuring me every step of this chapter that it wasn't as bad as I thought it was. huggles

_Chapter 11. __Abstract Expressionism_

Still in a haze of bliss after Spike's good night kiss, Buffy entered her suite and turned on the light. Placing her purse on the desk, she kicked her shoes off before throwing herself over the bed with a soft sigh. She closed her eyes and brought her fingers to trail across her lips, marveling how they still tingled from his kiss; matter of fact, her entire body still tingled.

God, was this how it felt to be in love? This all-encompassing need to be with that special someone, spend all the time she possibly could with him, share everything with him. Never before had she felt anything like this.

Never.

The few boyfriends she'd had in her life had been exactly that, boys. Spike was a man; a sophisticated, well-mannered, mature man that treated her like she was precious to him. Like she was someone to be cherished, treasured above everything else.

A knock on her door interrupted her musings, frowning as she sat up and glanced at the clock on her nightstand. Who could it be at… two twenty five a.m.? Was it really that late?

She heard another knock and her heart began hammering in her chest as she wondered if it could be Spike. Hoping she was right, she walked to the door and opened it without looking through the peephole first, only to try closing it as soon as she saw who was waiting on the other side.

"Helloooo, Buffy, looong time no seeee," Riley slurred. Putting his foot in the gap between the door and the frame so she wouldn't be able to close it, he pushed against it in with all his might.

Buffy stumbled from the force before falling to her hands and knees on the carpeted floor. She shook her head to clear it, opening her mouth to scream for help.

He was prepared for that, had been preparing all day long ever since she'd left him doubled over from pain in the lobby. And even if his movements were slightly uncoordinated by the quantity of alcohol swimming in his veins, he was still stronger than her and had the element of surprise working in his favor. He lunged at her before she could gain her footing, knocking her back to the floor, crushing her with his bulky frame, effectively immobilizing her and drawing the air out of her lungs at the same time.

He relished having her writhing under him, feeling her soft curves mold to his hard body. God, he was hard as nails already. He closed his eyes to savor the sensation of having his cock nestled between her thighs, anticipating the moment he'd make her his. He'd show her who she belonged to and make her forget anyone else that might have touched her before. Once he was buried deep inside her, she'd see there was no one else that could make her feel like he did. No one, not even the scrawny creep she'd kissed minutes ago.

She was scared; frightened out of her mind as she strived to find a way out of this… away from Riley. He was too heavy and she was becoming lightheaded from lack of oxygen, and what was worse, her motions while trying to push him off only seemed to excite him further as he started moving his body against hers.

She fought the wave of nausea that threatened to overtake her when his hands started traveling over her body, when his liquor-laced breath hit her nostrils as he pressed sloppy wet kisses on her cheeks while she turned her head so he wouldn't reach her lips. This couldn't be happening to her. She had to do something. Anything.

Intent on having her in every which way even if she didn't seem to be too accepting of his advances at the moment, his mouth sought and finally found hers to force his tongue inside.

She almost choked on the bile that rose unbidden up her throat at Riley's actions, at her impotence to stop him, but instead of giving into it she took the opportunity that presented itself and bit his tongue hard enough to draw blood.

"Bitch!" he exclaimed, pulling slightly away before slapping her, leaving the red imprint of his fingers on her cheek. He roughly closed his hand around her neck, reveling in the way her eyes widened in fear as he pressed hard enough to cut her air supply off.

She was already feeling more than a little dazed after the hard blow he'd dealt and even more so when he began strangling her. Tears swam in her green depths as she tried not to give into despair, into the darkness that reached out to claim her, hoping against hope that someone would come to her rescue before it was too late.

Not a moment after it began, the pressure to her throat suddenly vanished. She was almost thankful for the relief as her lungs struggled to take in gulps of much needed air. Almost, because what happened next sent her right back into the hell the last sixty seconds had held for her.

"Tha'll teach ya to respect me," Riley sneered before crushing her mouth with his while pawing her with his meaty hands.

------

Spike reclined his head on the backseat, exhaling a miserable sigh, running his hand through his bleached locks. He already missed her so bloody much, her warmth, her radiance, her kisses, her body's sweet response to him. If only he had the power to make the hours until he saw her again go by faster, well, he'd just about give anything for that. And if he could keep her… No, that wasn't possible, he shook his head to dispel the silly notion. No matter how much he wanted it. Hell, no matter if even she might want it. He couldn't, wouldn't do it and that was that.

He was acutely aware that this wasn't all that was bothering him. Something lingered on the edges of his subconscious, something he couldn't quite put his finger on, something that taunted him as it kept eluding his grasp. Think Spike, think. Perhaps…

"Giles?"

"Yes, sir?"

"What did the man look like?"

"Hmmm, sandy blond hair, around six foot three... a bulky, right pillock he was," Giles replied automatically, knowing very well who Master William was asking about.

"Bloody buggerin' hell!" he roared as everything clicked into place, practically tearing the door open in his haste to step out of the car.

_That was it!_ he thought as he ran back to the hotel. The overgrown hall monitor's scent; his stench rather, that's what he'd smelt while he'd been bidding Buffy good night. It had been strong, close, too much so for his liking.

------

Giles barely had time to hit the brakes after hearing the door open forcefully and then close with a bang. Through the rearview mirror, he saw a black and white blur swerving amongst the few cars still transiting at that late hour. Realizing it probably had something to do with what he just told his boss; he made a hasty U-turn and headed back towards the hotel, knowing he needed to be close by in case Master William or Miss Buffy needed him.

------

Spike called himself all kinds of fool for not noticing what had been right under his nose, for not realizing the danger **his** girl could be facing. His preternatural speed and stealth aided him to slip undetected into the hotel. Once inside he favored the stairs to the lift since he had neither time nor the patience to wait for it, especially not now when his girl might need him.

Apprehension swelled in his chest as he noticed the scent he'd been tracking grew stronger the closer he came to the floor Buffy's room was on. That feeling, though, took a back seat at the scene he witnessed when reaching her opened door, rage as he'd never felt before completely consuming him.

-------

Riley fumbled with the hem of her dress, eager to touch her skin, to feel her, to overpower and make her realize that there would never be anyone for her but him. After this, there would be no turning back, she would be fully his.

She evaded his touch, his mouth as best she could. She couldn't give in, even afraid as she was, she just couldn't. She had to be strong; she had to find a way out of this somehow. She couldn't hold back the pitiful whimper that rasped her throat when his hand snaked up her legs, slowly creeping towards her center. _No, no, please God, no._

An inhuman roar tore through the air at that precise moment and suddenly, Riley wasn't hovering over her anymore. She scrambled to her knees and crawled back to lean against the bed, hugging her legs close to her chest, shock setting in as she watched Spike throw Riley around the room as if he weighed nothing.

Riley's alcohol-laden mind couldn't grasp what was happening. From out of nowhere, an invisible force hauled him away from Buffy and proceeded to roughly bounce his body from one wall to the next until at last he found himself pinned while his attacker grabbed him by the shirt. Despite the man being shorter than him, the power and strength he radiated were undeniable.

Amber eyes filled with fury and contempt gazed upon him and Riley swallowed hard, a terror he never knew existed seized him as he took in his assailant's appearance for the first time. He blinked dumbly once, twice... he couldn't possibly be seeing what he thought he was, could he? Perhaps he drank a little too much. "Wha—"

"Your worst nightmare," Spike smirked, his demon elated in the way the git cowered at his words. However, much as he wanted to make the overgrown boy pay for what he tried to do, his main concern was Buffy.

He was overwhelmed with relief when extending his senses towards her. She seemed to be alright, a little shaken, but alright. It didn't appear as if the pillock had the chance—or the time—to do much to her. He hazarded a sidelong glance at her then, noticing the shock reflected in her features and the red marks that covered half her face, turned eyes blazing with ferocity back on his prey, gripping his neck to lift him several inches off the floor.

"You dared to hurt her?" he said, his tone menacing.

"N-no… i-it was-wasn't lik—" He was unable to continue when Spike's grasp to his throat tightened and tightened, horror from being at the complete mercy of a true monster rising and rising. At the brink of losing his mind, he shuddered and whimpered when he felt something wet and warm tickling down his legs.

Spike let go, letting him crumple to his knees. Heaving and spluttering, he finally managed to make his legs work enough to climb to his feet, all the while keeping wide, fearful eyes settled on the demon in front of him.

"I'd tell you to piss off but…" he glanced down at the boy's crotch. "I can see you've already managed that."

Riley didn't dare move an inch as Spike neared him again, deadly yellow eyes fixed on his.

"I want you to leave, pack up your things and drag your miserable carcass back to whichever rock you crawled up from under. And don't even dream of coming back, because if I so much as smell you near **my** girl, I'll track you down and I swear... I'll make you sorry you were ever born. Do you understand?"

Riley nodded numbly; too scared to even try to reply.

"Now… LEAVE!" Spike roared while the git stumbled as best he could out of the room without a backward glance.

"S-Spike?" Buffy said unsurely from behind him.

-------

Giles parked the Bentley a few meters ahead the Mandeville's front entrance and was currently leaning on the car while he waited, biding his time until he was needed.

There was no one else but him in the street, not even the hotel's doorman after he 'convinced' him of going inside for an hour or so. It had been surprisingly easier—and a whole lot cheaper—than he expected, too.

The same man he'd seen assaulting Buffy earlier staggered through the hotel's revolving door and started walking towards him. Or should he say escaping, and quite clumsily at that since he kept stumbling over his own feet while looking back as if fearing he were being followed.

If only he knew. A sneer that could only be described as evil curved his mouth as he took his sweet time to retrieve his gloves, putting them on then shedding his overcoat into the passenger's seat before leaving the car to slowly advance towards the young man.

"S-sorry," Riley stammered as he crashed right into Giles. He hadn't seen the man, still couldn't since he had his back to the light and he could only make out his shadow.

"Don't worry. Say… you don't look too good. Is there something I could help you with?"

"Y-you wouldn't be-believe what just ha-happened to me."

"Why don't you try me?"

"No, no. I-I have to go."

"Here, you seem a bit shaken." Giles grabbed his arm as Riley faltered in his step once again. "Allow me to get you a cab or something."

"Y-yes, yes. A cab sounds g-good. Thank you." Riley closed his eyes and leaned on the man, unaware he'd led him off the street and into a dark alley.

"Oh, believe me when I say the pleasure will be all mine."

tbc

Still with me? I'd love to know what you thought of the chapter if you're inclined to let me know.


	12. Chapter 12 Post Impressionism

Finally, after almost a month here you have the next chapter. I went through hell to get it done. At first I was drained after writing chapter 11, then I started writing some scenes for the next chapter, went away on vacation to Antigua (which was delicious, btw), then muse decided to be difficult and disappeared for almost two weeks. Believe me when I say I was beyond frustrated at not being able to write… at all. Oh well, it's over now (clings to muse) and I hope you enjoy this chapter.

As always, a thousand thanks to all of you who take the time to read and review; especially Caitlin, Arianwen, WingedBlack and Audrey, who I can't respond through however if you leave me your e-mail, I'll try to respond you like that the next time. You wouldn't believe how much your comments helped, especially while trying to get over my writer's block. Thank you to my lovely IBE, who took the time to beta this chapter for me and for being there for me, even with her hubby at home. Love you, darling! (smooches) And to Tammy for the read-through and assuring me it wasn't as choppy as I thought it was. (hugs)

Some lines taken from Buffy vs. Dracula written by Marti Noxon. I just couldn't resist not using them. (g)

_Chapter 12.__ Post-Impressionism_

Buffy tried to gather her bearings, make sense of what just happened, what was still happening, what she was seeing, but couldn't stop shaking long enough to manage.

Her hands felt cold and clammy as she embraced her knees with them, her eyes brimming with tears she refused to shed. She swallowed hard to dislodge the lump in her throat, her breath uneven and tremulous as it escaped painfully through her swollen lips.

Her cheek burned with the sting of Riley's slap, she could still feel his fingers as they closed around her neck, as they crept up her body. It was an ugly reminder of her inability to escape, to make him stop.

She shook her head and forced herself to inhale and exhale, take long, deep calming breaths, trying to focus on anything other than the nightmare she'd just lived through. And yet one thought remained clear in her muddled mind... Spike had rescued her. Somehow, he'd known she needed him and came to her aide, arriving in the nick of time to pull Riley off her with all the force and rage of an avenging angel. The nightmare was over. Only… was it really? Because the face of her angel was that of a monster.

She shivered, hugging her knees closer to her body. She knew what she saw, was sure of it as the air that currently filled her lungs. Yet her heart refused to believe there was any other monster in the room except Riley.

Riley wouldn't have stopped. If Spike hadn't intervened, Riley would've rap… '_No, don't think about it. Don't. It's over now, it's all over,' _she thought, watching as Riley stumbled through the door, hoping she'd never see him again.

Spike stood with his back to her, she could see him clench and unclench his fists, felt the anger radiating from him, his concern for her and still… he wouldn't turn around. Why?

She needed him right now, his strength, his protection, the comfort only he could provide. Whatever he was didn't matter, not now. He made her feel safe and she needed that more than anything else at the moment. She rose on slightly unsteady legs and called hesitatingly, "S-Spike?"

Spike didn't want to face her. Not like this. Not when he still hadn't been able to shake his demon's face off. How much had she seen? How would she react now? Could he bear seeing the horror, the accusation in her eyes now that she'd witnessed what he was capable of, what he truly was?

For as much as he'd like to delay this for a century or two, he knew he had to face her. Mustering every sliver of the self-control he'd mastered over the years, he reined in his rage against the man that tried to hurt the one he cared about and the monster gave way once again to the man. Now in control, he pivoted on his heel, steeling himself for her reaction.

Buffy held her breath as he slowly turned towards her, not sure what she expected to see when he did, but deep down knowing no matter what he looked like, whatever he was, she was safe with him. Still, even knowing that, she sagged in relief when she found herself staring at the face she'd grown so fond of in the last few days.

He couldn't give credit to what he saw written on her face, in her eyes. Or rather, what he didn't see. There was none of the horror, the trepidation, the accusation he'd anticipated. She was shaken, her pallor sickeningly white against the red that covered part of her face, her whole demeanor screamed she'd just lived a horrible experience and yet… yet, she looked at him as if he was her savior, not a vile creature. Could it be she hadn't seen anything?

She extended her hand towards him and just then her legs gave out. In a blink, he was by her side, helping her to sit on the bed and kneeling in front of her. His blue eyes traveled up and down her body, her face, all his senses attuned on her to gauge if she were hurt anywhere else other than the obvious.

"Are you alright, love?"

"Y-yes, but …" she paused, her eyes shifting from him to scan the room. She didn't want to stay here, in this hotel, not after what just happened. She'd never feel secure. And at the same time, she couldn't bring herself to ask him to take her home with him. She knew he'd say yes, he was nothing if not a gentleman, but she'd hate to think he'd agree out of obligation and intrude in his domain.

"But?" he compelled her to elaborate only to be met with a sad shake of her head. He hadn't missed the way she'd looked about nervously a few seconds earlier and was all too aware she wouldn't be comfortable staying here. Even more so, he couldn't leave her here, he'd be worried sick there might be a repeat performance of tonight. He needed to have her nearby so he could make sure nothing bad happened to her. "Know what, love? You're comin' home with me. Ah-ah-ah," he warned, waggling a finger at her when she seemed about to complain. "I'm not askin', I'm tellin' you. I'm not about to leave you here alone, not after what happened."

A wave of relief washed over her at his… well, offer. He thought she might complain? Nothing farther from her mind; however, she had to make at least a token protest. "B-but…"

"No buts, love." He put a finger under her chin to level her face with his. "You just went through a very traumatic experience. We can talk 'bout makin' other arrangements tomorrow mornin' once you've rested from your ordeal, alright?" Not that he had any intention of allowing her out of his sight for the rest of her trip, but if it made her accept it would have to do… for now.

She nodded, feeling a lot better now that she knew she would be safe, that she'd be under his care, at his home, where there'd be no more Riley.

"Pack a few things in a bag, toiletries and such you might need while I ring the reception desk to get your account sorted and arrange for a maid to pack up the rest of your baggage. Giles can pick it up later today."

He started to rise from the carpet when she put a hand over his arm. "Spike?"

"Yeah, love?"

"Thanks… for everything."

"You're welcome, sweetheart. I'm just glad I got here in time." And was he ever, even if he'd liked to be there earlier so she wouldn't have gone through any of it. He smiled reassuringly at her and walked to the phone to get everything sorted with the hotel.

Buffy half-listened to his side of the conversation while deciding what to do in the meantime. She toyed with the idea of changing, but didn't want to stay in this room any longer than necessary. Instead, she did just what Spike had asked her and automatically started collecting some of her clothes and bath articles then threw them rather carelessly inside a duffel bag.

She started when she felt Spike's hands run lightly over her arms, since she hadn't noticed he'd stopped talking on the phone.

"Are you ready, love?"

"Y-yes, all set to go." She smiled at him, and her smile only grew bigger when he took off the leather duster he'd been wearing and placed it around her shoulders. She looked down at herself, noticing it covered her dress entirely and at the same time, provided her with much needed warmth. Of course it didn't hurt she was drowning in his scent as it enveloped her, she mused as she hugged it closer to her.

He picked up the duffel bag from the bed and extended his free hand to her, which she was about to grab only to suddenly take a step back and walk towards a desk on the opposite side of the room.

"Buffy, what—" he started to ask, until he saw what she was after. His painting, the one he'd given her. "Sweetheart, Giles can pick that up along with the rest of your luggage later."

"No, I'm taking it with me. I'm not leaving it here and running the risk of anything happening to it."

"It won't fit in the car," he argued.

"Of course it will. It's not that big, it will fit perfectly in the passenger's seat. Please, Spike?"

He sighed. "Alright, you win."

"Thank you. Perhaps you can carry it and I'll take the bag?"

"Nah, I'll carry both." '_Not even a week and you're whipped already_,' he thought to himself as he followed her to the lift. And truthfully, he wouldn't have it any other way.

---------

They stepped out of The Mandeville about fifteen minutes later. The lady at the reception desk had her account ready and waiting for them when they got downstairs and assured them that one of the maids would pack the rest of Miss Summers' belongings and have it ready whenever they sent someone to pick it up.

Spike exhaled a sigh of relief when they found Giles outside waiting for them. Not that he'd have any doubts he wouldn't be, although he hadn't told the man where he was off to when he tore out of the car earlier.

Once they passed by him to enter the back door of the car, he smelled something on Giles he recognized from before but his chauffeur refused to meet his eyes and he decided to let it go for the moment. As it was, they would have to speed up to win the race home against the nearing dawn and whenever they were there would be early enough to talk with him. Before following Buffy into the car though, he asked Giles to phone Anne so she would have enough time to prepare a room for Miss Summers since she would be staying the night with them. Of course, if he got his way, she'd be staying for the rest of her vacation. Although, if he truly had his way about things, she'd stay for the rest of her life... and in his bedroom.

If he had any doubts Buffy hadn't seen his demon's face, they were dispelled when she leaned her head on his shoulder as soon as he sat down by her side. He put his arm around her and pulled her closer basking in the knowledge she was safe with him.

Buffy was glad for the comfortable silence in which they settled once they were inside the car, giving her time to process everything she'd gone through in the last hour. It had been quite a lot and probably… no, not probably, she **knew** if Spike hadn't shown up, she wouldn't have been able to get away from Riley.

The only thing she was sure of was that no matter what Spike might be, she was completely safe with him. He had a thousand opportunities today to harm her had he chose to and didn't. He wouldn't, couldn't. He wasn't like that, wasn't like Riley. And perhaps deep inside, she'd known all along Spike wasn't exactly what he seemed.

As they rode towards the estate, she tried to put her finger on exactly what made Spike so different from any other man given the limited amount of time she'd known him. It went so much farther than the obvious. Yes, he was a handsome, sophisticated, mature man, much more so than other men she'd met, but that was not all there was to him.

She went over every encounter, every conversation, smile and look they'd shared. Small pieces of conversations, subtle clues and details she'd dismissed suddenly came rushing together, like pieces of a puzzle of a mystery.

The way he'd gotten rid of Riley at the exhibit; his lack of reflection, the way his eyes would blaze amber at times, the power and physical strength he exuded…

"_Your hand is freezing."_

Cold to the touch, he was always cold to the touch.

"…_there's the inconvenience of a slight allergy I have to the sun… If the rays ever touched my skin, I'd go up in a puff of smoke... like a vampire."_

Vampire. Was he that? A vampire?

And if so, did it change anything? About how she felt for him? No, it definitely didn't. He was still the same Spike she was falling in love with and nothing could change that. Ever!

------

She heaved a sigh of relief when Spike finally showed her to her room. Anne had it already prepared when they arrived at the mansion and it was just as magnificent as the rest of the house. Not that she really paid much attention to her surroundings with everything that was running around her head. She was tired, but she knew sleep wouldn't claim her, not until she'd talked with Spike.

"Well, love, I'll leave you alone so you can rest."

"No."

"No? What do you mean no?" He cocked an inquisitive eyebrow.

"I mean…" she sighed, trying to gather enough courage for what she needed to discuss with him. "I… you… what are you exactly?" she blurted finally. "Because, back in the hotel I saw something... your face was... well, different."

"Different?" He would've blanched if that were actually possible. There went his hopes she hadn't seen his game-face. Although, she'd seen him and even then she'd come with him? What did that mean?

"Yes, you were all… with the bumpies and the-the… glowy eyes."

"Perhaps we should discuss this later today once you've rested?" he asked.

"No, I think this is something we should discuss now." She patted the bed to indicate him to sit next to her. "Now, explain, please?"

"I'm not sure where to start," he sighed, defeated.

"Why don't you start by telling me the truth?"

"I've never told you any lies." He rose from the bed and started pacing in front of her.

"Might be, but you haven't been too forthcoming with other information either, have you?"

"It's not somethin' you go tellin' every person you meet, love."

"Okay, I'll give you that. But I hope I'm not just any person… or am I?"

"No... no, of course not. You're... much more... And I…" He took in a deep, unneeded breath, stopping in front of her and kneeling down to bring their faces level once again. "Truth is, I didn't tell you because you're **not** just anyone. You're special, much more so than anyone else I've met in a long time and I… I didn't want to scare you off. I didn't want you to look at me any differently than you do." He ran a hand over his face and she was surprised to see it was shaking. Was he really that afraid of her reaction?

"But I wouldn't… look at you differently I mean. I don't care what you are, Spike. I trust you, I-I… care for you a-and that won't change."

He was speechless for a few seconds, unable to believe what he was hearing, but how could he not when it was written so clearly in her emerald eyes? "Vampire," he said abruptly.

"Excuse me?"

"I'm a vampire."

"You're a vampire? Like… like Dracula?" Wow, talk about mind-boggling revelations.

"I'm nothing like that tosser," he scoffed. "Poncy bugger owes me eleven pounds, for one thing."

"You-you mean… he's real?"

"'Course he's real. As real as you and me."

"But he's not just a regular vampire, is he? I mean, he has special powers, right?"

"Nothin' but showy Gypsy stuff." He waved his hand dismissively.

"That thing you did with Riley... the day we met—" She raised an inquisitive eyebrow. "—was that... showy Gypsy stuff, too?"

"You noticed that, huh?" He had the decency to look sheepish.

"U-huh. Have you…" she paused, unsure if she should ask, unsure if she really wanted to know, but at the same time needing to know. "Have you ever tried to do that... with me?" She held her breath while waiting for his answer.

"No, no. I haven't, couldn't..." Nervously, he ran a hand over his face and hair. "I wouldn't dream of insultin' you like that, Buffy. Never."

"But... why Riley then?"

He chuckled. "He tried to get in the way of me talkin' to you. But to be honest… considerin' how long it's been since I've used my... powers of persuasion on anyone… it had to be someone really weak-minded for it to work as well as it did."

"Weak-minded is not a strong enough word for what he is."

"I agree, but I wouldn't want to offend your sensibility by calling him what he deserves."

"Fair enough. So… you really didn't use any… how do you call it?"

"Thrall," he supplied.

"You didn't use any of that thrall on me then? Never ever?" The way he smiled and shook his head before answering was all the reassurance she needed.

"Never ever, love." He lowered his voice to a seductive purr when informing her, "You wanted to put your hands on my tight hot little body all on your own."

"Uhh," she gasped when he waggled his brows, teeth curling behind his tongue. "Ego much?"

"Huge... as a matter of fact." He couldn't help himself, so elated he hadn't scared her away with all this information.

"Ugh, whatever." She waved a hand off, before an idea crept into her mind. "Can I see your grr-face?"

"WHAT?!" She couldn't have said what he thought, could she?

"You heard me."

"Why would you want to see… that?"

"I don't know, I just want to. Humor me?"

"I don't think it's a good idea. 'S not pretty."

"Pleeeease?"

"Alright, but don't say I didn't warn you."

"I won't, I promise. Now… do it."

Knowing he was defeated, he closed his eyes so he didn't have to witness the horror in her eyes when she saw the true face of his demon for the first time and sighed deeply, concentrating on bringing it to the forefront. He didn't understand why she would want to see him wearing his game-face. It made no sense at all. At least to him. Not that he could ever deny her anything anyway, no matter how much it could cost him like in this case. Although… perhaps it wouldn't be too bad? After all, if she hadn't run away scared by now, it wasn't likely she would when being faced with the mask of his beast, especially since she was the one to ask to see it. And still, knowing that, he simply couldn't bring himself to open his eyes.

Buffy couldn't give credit to her eyes when she saw the smoothness of Spike's face give way to ruggedness. There wasn't that much difference. Not really. Not to her, at least. There were some ridges across his forehead and they made his eyes appear… well, hooded. Not that she would've seen much of them anyway, since he had them closed. She yearned to see their color—the few glimpses she'd had before not being nearly enough for her. To see if they still carried the same intensity, the same emotions that she'd seen mirrored in the blue eyes she'd come to treasure.

Unable to stop herself, she slowly lifted a hand to his face. Gently, lovingly, she caressed every ridge, crease and edge until he opened his eyes. Surprise burned deep within the amber depths, surprise and what looked a lot like… was that adoration?

He couldn't believe she was touching him. Not even now that he was seeing her doing it could he trust his eyes. He truly believed she'd be frightened, run away when he let her see, well, him. She hadn't. Instead, she was exploring his creature's visage, looking at him with all the innocent wonder of a child unaware of the danger he actually posed. And there, in her eyes, he swore he saw... acceptance?

She gazed at him in awe, still not quite believing he was allowing her to be this close to him, that he'd trust her enough to share this part of himself with her. Then came a sound, a soft rumble that seemed to start in his chest and when she touched him there with her free hand, grew in intensity, the vibrations spreading up her arm and into her body through their connection. Was he… purring?

Spike nuzzled the hand that was still caressing his face and brought one of his up to cover it before kissing her palm softly, carefully, obviously trying his best not to hurt her with his fangs.

She melted at the tender gesture. He was still her Spike, no matter which face he wore. He was her angel, her knight in shining armor, her art professor, her… everything.

Leaning towards him, she kissed him full on the mouth. Her tongue sliding over the seam of his lips until he granted her access inside to caress his fangs and coax his tongue out to dance with hers. She needed him to understand, to show him she was willing to accept all of him. Vampire and man.

"This doesn't change how I feel about you, nothing would," she said as she leaned back to look deeply into his eyes, placing her hand over his unbeating heart.

He pulled her back into his arms then, embracing her tightly and whispered into her ear, "Thank you, kitten."

Relief coursed through him at her acceptance, at the way she'd embraced what he was, everything he was, not just the part he'd shown her before. Only now could he admit his heart would've been broken inexorably had she rejected him. But she hadn't rejected him, not at all and now… now that he had her in his arms and she was holding him to her so sweetly, so trustingly, he had to acknowledge—if only to himself—this had been the moment when he'd fallen completely, irrevocably in love with her.

Christ, if before realizing this he'd known it would be difficult to part ways with her when her vacation ended, how would he be able to cope with it now?

tbc

Still with me? I'd love to know what you thought of the chapter, if you're inclined to tell me.


	13. Chapter 13 Pointillism

I'm so sorry again for the long wait in between postings, but this time it couldn't be helped. My dad was sick all last week and between that and having to take care of the office, I just couldn't write at all. Dad is all better now though, so finally I could whip another chapter into submission for your viewing pleasure.

As always, a thousand thanks to kudagirl, KimaraSims, TooMuchInformation, Audrey, Tru Jones, rogue, WingedBlack, Kabbit5684, The Gryffindor Drummer and autumnevening for reviewing. It truly makes my day to know you're still enjoying this story. autumnevening i appreciate your comments and while I'm no English major, have English as my native language or any background as a writer, I promise I'll try my best to improve.

And a special thank you to my darling IBE, without your help, enthusiasm and motivation this story wouldn't be what it is. smooches

Just a reminder: Voting is open at The Feeling Love Awards, so if you feel inclined to vote for this story or whichever of the wonderful stories nominated, you can do so at: thefeelingloveawards (dot) blood-desires (dot) co (dot) uk until Midnight GMT on November 30th.

_Chapter 13. __Pointillism_

"Well, darlin', I'll leave you to rest," Spike said, starting to get up from the floor only to stop when Buffy grabbed his arm, large, needful eyes rising to his as she pleaded.

"No, don't go. Don't leave me. Please?"

"Love, I don't think that's a good id—"

"Please, Spike, stay with me? I-I really don't feel like... like being alone right now." And she truly didn't. While she'd tried to keep her fears at bay during their trip back to the manor and their talk, she knew the minute she found herself alone they would come back tenfold. She felt safe with Spike, **was** safe with him and knew his presence alone would keep the nightmares and the horrible memories away.

It wasn't as if he could deny her anything, let alone something like this. However secure she might be in his home, she was still shaken after her experience with the overgrown git and **he** would feel a lot better knowing they were in the same room together.

"Of course I'll stay, sweetheart. I'll give you a few minutes so you can get ready for bed."

"Thank you," she whispered, wrapping her hands around his neck and leaning her head against his strong chest.

"You don't need to thank me, love."

"Yes, I do." She pulled away from him slightly and nodded to emphasize her point. "If you hadn't gotten to the room when you did, Riley would've…"

"Don't think about it."

"I need to say this, Spike. I don't know what made you return to the hotel and I truly don't care. Well, perhaps I do care a little bit." She grinned sheepishly.

'_She is so adorable_,' he thought, smiling indulgently.

"The thing is, if it hadn't been for you, I dread to think what could've happened. But you came for me, somehow you knew I needed you and you came. And not only that, you opened the doors of your house to me, a virtual stranger, a-"

"You're not a stranger, virtual or otherwise, darlin'. I wouldn't've shared all I have with you if I thought that, now would I?" He winked at her. "And you don't need to thank me for anything. I'm doing this as much for my sake as for yours, perhaps more for myself. I'd hate to think of anything bad happening to you and not being there to stop it. Now, Miss Summers, be a good girl and get ready for bed, I'll be back in about fifteen minutes," he said, kissing her lightly on the lips before disentangling himself from her arms and leaving her to her privacy.

Even considering she had to be exhausted after all she'd been through, he expected it would be difficult for her to fall asleep. Nothing farther from what happened though. She'd barely managed to keep her eyes open long enough after Spike joined her in her bed, her head pillowed over his chest and one of her legs nestled between his as he pulled the comforter over them to keep her warm.

He was thankful for the opportunity it gave him though. He remained awake for a long while; too busy savoring the feeling of having her with him like this to want to follow her into slumber.

He still couldn't believe Buffy was being this accepting of him. She was in his arms, her own locked around him, holding him to her in her sleep. Taking comfort from him as much as giving it. It was perfection, the truest form of bliss he'd ever experienced to have the woman he loved close to him, trusting him enough to accept all of him, both man and demon.

There had been a time when he had reveled in the gore, in the hunt, in the fear he could inspire in those that had gone to great lengths to humiliate him in his mortal days. After being turned, he'd done a thousand things he now regretted; but back then it had been liberating to do whatever he pleased, to allow his demon free rein and let it indulge in creating as much mayhem as he possibly could. He'd lived and done more in those few years than he ever did being human and still… Still he'd retained enough of his humanity, of his soul—even though he was supposed to be nothing more than a soulless being—to know he couldn't continue that way for all eternity, not without losing that small portion he'd kept of himself in the meantime. And that was something he couldn't bear to do, to lose no matter what.

Not even for her, for his Sire. Drusilla had been enchanting, beautiful, dark and mysterious and he'd fallen head over heels for her. Not just because she'd made him and showed him there could be life after death or because she was one of the most lovely creatures he'd ever seen but because she had chosen him, William Wellington, to be her Childe.

They traveled, they partied, painted the towns they visited red—in some cases more literally than he cared to remember. And in that time, he learned all there was about being a vampire, about being a man. But he'd matured during that time as well and slowly began to realize that the life he'd thought so wonderful at first wasn't so.

After only a few years, he tired of the life of parties and chaos, of sharing his wicked lover with any man or demon that took her fancy and started missing his parents, the home he'd grown up in, painting, even writing the bloody awful poetry only his dear mother would enjoy. That's when the man took control of his life once again and the demon receded, his conscience mastering it, controlling it. Dru noticed the change and decided they should return to England to which he gladly agreed. What she hadn't told him was they were going back so he could cut all ties to his prior life. What she didn't count on was those ties were more important to him than she ever could have dreamed they were.

It had been a surprisingly easy choice for him when the time came. An automatic choice and in his mind, the only one he could have made, no matter how much he'd thought he loved his dark princess.

Drusilla made her intentions clear the same night they arrived to his familial estate by grabbing his mother, holding her by the chest, her fangs dangerously close to her throat and asking him to do the same with his father. Horrified he heard what she'd been planning all along, that she wanted them to kill his family, to sever all ties to his past. He didn't need anyone else but her, she'd claimed. And while at the beginning of their liaison that might have been true, so many things had happened afterwards for him to question that. He still loved her, but it would never compare to the love he felt for the persons who raised him, who had bestowed anything other than love and kindness upon him. And before she even imagined he would never choose her, he'd taken the wooden spade his father kept over a table, a memento from his childhood, tore his mother away from her grasp and rammed the spade through Drusilla's undead heart before she had time to retaliate, her eyes wide and filled with sorrow as she realized what he'd done.

Her death had been hard for Spike, perhaps more than he'd thought given the quickness in which he reacted to her threat. He'd mourned her, immersing himself in his paintings, in his life inside the manor. In the meantime, his father had taken care of matters as best he could to ensure his sole heir would remain being so for the time he lived, or unlived as the case might be, no matter how long it was. After a little investigating, it was amazing what fortune such as the Wellington's could buy. He'd contacted a firm, Wolf, Ram and Hart and they had solved everything then and still continued to now, providing Spike with all sorts of services throughout the years that ensured no one would ever contest the validity of his father's will or his rights as his legal heir, regardless of his undead state.

He'd been mostly alone since his parents had passed; a few of their loyal employees remaining with him after, their sons and daughters carrying on after they too died and so forth. Every once in a while, he would emerged from his solitude, his need for human contact and his desire to share his work with the world to see how it would be received being the driving force. They were the sole motives that generally drew him out, but while still keeping his anonymity a priority.

Until the moment Buffy came into his life and illuminated everything in her path. He hadn't been able to stay away from her, and when the opportunity arose he didn't even think of not taking hold of it with both hands, even if it meant losing that anonymity he'd prized so much before. He'd compared himself to Icarus when he saw her that first time, wondering if his wings might melt away under the heat of her radiance if he dared to come too close.

And perhaps that's what happened, his wings melted and he'd fallen, but instead of dying because of it, he felt more alive than ever before... because she caught him. He didn't know what would happen when they would have to part ways, but he was determined to enjoy the time they still had together and make it count.

Because no matter how much he wished to keep her with him, or how much she wished to remain with him, he couldn't dream of subjecting her to a life without light. She belonged in the light, in the sun, and he loved her too much to risk her well-being for him.

He still had a few more days until he had to give her up though, and he was determined to enjoy those days to the fullest, the consequences to his heart be damned.

Lulled by the soft rise and fall of her chest as she breathed and the steady beat of her heart, he finally allowed sleep to claim him.

_Meanwhile, at __a hospital nearby The Mandeville Hotel…_

"Edwards and I found him in an alley a few meters away from The Mandeville, bloodied, bruised and reeking of alcohol," Officer Williams told the man who'd been sent to replace him at the hospital. "According to the head nurse he's way over the legal BAC limit and seems to be experiencing some kind of paranoia."

"Paranoia?" the younger man asked, wide-eyed and curious.

"Yes. You see when we interrogated him earlier he started… well, raving about monsters that were coming after him." He rolled his eyes, clearly stating he didn't believe any of it. "Now if you ask me, I think he pissed the wrong man or men off at a pub, judging by his wounds. You know how those Americans can be."

Officer Richards nodded. "Yes, I do know. Always trying to create some trouble."

"Exactly. And this one takes the cake. Really, who would believe a word of what he's saying, especially with as drunk as he is?"

"And you'd probably be right not to, young man," a voice confirmed from behind them.

Officer Williams started, turning towards the older, very distinguished looking man who'd spoken. "Doctor Ethan Rayne, may I introduce my co-worker, Officer Richards."

"How do you do, young man?" Ethan offered his hand to the youngster now looking at him in awe.

"Doctor Ethan Rayne? Renowned Doctor Rayne, Director of Bedlam? **The** Doctor Rayne?" Officer Richards asked, unable to mask his admiration as he shook the older man's hand.

"One and the same."

"Doctor Rayne sometimes performs consultations in this hospital, Officer Richards, and since he was here when we brought Mr. Finn in, he kindly offered to examine him. I imagine you've finished your examination of him, Doctor?" Officer Williams questioned.

"Yes, I just did."

"And?" Williams pressed.

"I think it would be for the best to relocate him to a more suitable facility." Best for whom though, was the true question. Ethan smiled inwardly. When his old mate, Rupert Giles, contacted him earlier that night, he never expected the 'favor' he asked of him would be of this nature—or this much fun for that matter. Just thinking of the experiments he'd be able to perform on the 'big oaf', as dear old Ripper had referred him as, had him feeling thoroughly giddy.

"A more suitable facility?" Richards repeated. "Like Bedlam, you mean?"

"Precisely, although we prefer to be called Bethlem Royal Hospital nowadays," Ethan answered with a smile. "Surely you understand; we prefer to distance ourselves from the atrocities committed there in other times." '_And the ones we still commit with certain select patients, such as Mr. Finn,__'_ he added to himself.

"Of course, Doctor Rayne," Richards nodded.

"I still don't understand why you need to relocate Mr. Finn," Williams intervened.

Perhaps not as easy as he thought with Officer Williams in charge, however he was nothing if not resourceful. "Well, Officer, the man is suffering from a very strange form of Delirium Tremens; due, I presume, to the heavy amounts of alcohol he consumed. I suspect he's an alcoholic and if he's already in the stages where Paranoia is manifesting—as his ramblings of monsters pursuing to kill him suggest—he's clearly a danger both to himself and to others. It's a very sad case actually, but I'm quite confident we can help him at the Bethlem Royal Hospital."

"Well, I'm still not sure—"

"Williams, I hardly think your opinion should matter. He…" Richards pointed at Ethan. "…is an authority in break-through treatments for mentally-disabled patients. I'm sure Chief Brown will agree with him and me that we should do what's best for Mr. Finn and at the moment, following Dr. Rayne's advice is the best for him."

"Oh alright, do with him what you think is best." Williams conceded with a defeated sigh. It was not like he cared what happened to the American anyway.

"Don't worry, Mr. Williams. I promise we will take excellent care of our new patient." Ethan grinned in a way that could only be described as evil. '_Very good care indeed.__'_

tbc

So, shuffles I know the majority (if not all) of you wanted a gruesome death for Riley, but I've always thought there are worse fates than death. wide evil grin

Also, the **Bethlem Royal Hospital** of London, which has been variously known as St. Mary Bethlehem, Bethlem Hospital, Bethlehem Hospital and Bedlam, is the world's oldest psychiatric hospital and became famous and infamous for the brutal ill-treatment meted out to the mentally ill in several periods throughout history.

I'd love to know what you thought of the chapter, if you feel inclined to tell me. bats eyelashes

Hope you have a wonderful rest of the week!

Hugs,

Mari


	14. Chapter 14 Rococo

Thank you all for the reviews, especially to Tals and tabs, since I couldn't respond to you through the site. I'm delighted you enjoyed the glimpse into Spike's past and the beginning of what I have planned for Riley. evil grin

A huge thank you to my darling friend, IBE, I truly would be lost without you. huggles And to Tammy, for the read-through.

_Chapter 14.__ Rococo_

Buffy woke up to find her head nestled in the crook of Spike's neck, one of her hands splayed over his chest and her leg thrown over his as one of his arms cradled her close. She took a few moments to savor the feeling of their contact, of being in his arms, in his house, in his bed. Well, not really, but since technically it was in his house it **was** his bed, right?

It was odd not to feel a steady heartbeat under her hand, or the rhythmic up and down of his chest as he didn't breathe. And at the same time those little things were… comforting. Those peculiarities, same as his demon's face, were a part of him and she treasured every little bit of himself he chose to share with her.

She cherished every minute, every second of the time they'd spent together while hoping against hope that when the time came for her to leave, he wouldn't let her go. She'd never felt like this for anyone. Never felt this overwhelming need to be as close as possible to anyone as she did with Spike.

She'd shied away from past relationships before they got too serious, before the few men she'd dated could leave her as her father had left her mother. So what was it about Spike that had changed all that? From the moment she met him, she hadn't once thought of escaping. The desire to be with him in any way she could had completely overruled any hesitation on her part, which truth be told, hadn't really been present at all.

He was different from anyone she'd met before and not just because of the lack of a pulse. He had that… special 'something' that called to her on every level imaginable. Physically, intellectually, but above all, emotionally—which if it were any other man, would have sent her running for the hills by now. In this case, however, it didn't… and that in itself should have scared her even more. But it didn't. She was confident he felt something for her, something strong, hopefully as strong as what she felt for him.

She moved her head back to check if he was still asleep. He seemed to be and it gave her the chance to study his face in a way she couldn't before. He was so beautiful, much more so than any man had a right to be. She hadn't noticed how long and dark his lashes were until now when she could see them up close; how defined his cheekbones were and how much character they added to his face even in slumber. She brought her hand up, slowly so she wouldn't wake him, her fingers itching to sketch every feature her eyes were rediscovering but contenting herself with tracing the air over them instead while inhaling his scent, imprinting every minute detail of him in her mind, in her heart, in her soul.

Her heart did a summersault inside her chest as she realized something. She didn't just feel something strong for him; she'd fallen in love with Spike. She loved him. There wasn't a shred of uncertainty in her mind, not anymore. Not when it was so important to her to store every memory, every word, everything he did, all of him deep inside herself where no one could ever take it away.

There was no a doubt she'd do anything, give anything, go through whatever she had to in order to be with him, remain with him. She wasn't scared of what he was, of what the future might bring, she never even gave it a second thought. Not with him. To the contrary, she was prepared to fight for him, to keep him, to win his love. So what if she was human and he was a vampire? They weren't that different, were they? Aside from the obvious, of course. She frowned slightly as she bit her lower lip. Not that she really knew what being a vampire really meant, other than what she'd seen in movies or read in fiction books. Still… no matter what he was, he was the same Spike she'd first met at his exhibit and she was still the same Buffy. Yes, they would find a way… together. She wasn't about to give this, **him**, up.

He watched from beneath his lashes as she stopped her… well, inspection of him and then scrunched her brow as if having some inner debate with herself. He almost gave the game away when she took that damn kissable lower lip of hers between her teeth, but somehow held back the moan that almost escaped his throat.

He'd woken up the moment he sensed her hand hovering over his face, wishing she'd lower it just a tad so he could feel the silky caress of her fingertips against his skin but decided to wait, to see what she would do next. However, her innocent 'almost-touches' and her nearness were wreaking havoc on his self-control, his cock stirring and growing in time with each one of her breaths that wisped across his chest. It was strange how he could master his demon's demands, curve its bloodlust and need for violence without a problem, but when it came to the glorious creature in his arms, he seemed unable to keep beast or man in check, the way his body reacted to her involuntary.

It wasn't a matter of wanting to 'be' with a woman, he knew. It was a matter of wanting this woman, Buffy. Every once in a while he'd indulged in pleasures of the flesh, unable to deny his baser instincts or needs. However, none of the women he'd been with could even dream of holding a candle to her, not even Dru. It'd never been like this for him. Every caress, every move, her every breath enticed him, inflamed him until there was nothing but her, them, in the room, the house, the world.

He wondered if it had to do with the fact that he'd never been attracted like this to anyone, never let them in on his 'secret' let alone fallen in love with them as hard as he had with Buffy. There was something about her that appealed to both the man and demon, and not for the first time he dreaded the thought of having to give her up at the end of her vacation.

If only things were different, if only he weren't what he was. He was a vampire though and there was nothing he could do about it. And while he knew he couldn't ask her to stay with him, he simply couldn't be noble enough to back off now that he'd realized and accepted his feelings for her. He wanted, needed her too much to stay away. When the time came to love her, his mind was set on making it perfect for her. To cherish her like the goddess she was. She deserved the very best and she'd get it even if the wait killed him. Which was practically a given if she continued biting on that lip. However, much as he tried to keep up the charade of pretending to be asleep, he couldn't hold back the groan that rose unbidden in his throat when she let go of her plump bottom lip only to run the tip of her tongue over it.

She shook her head, clearing it from the path her thoughts had taken and moistened her suddenly dry lips, gasping in surprise when she heard Spike's moan.

Wide green eyes slowly swept upwards to meet the dark sapphire gaze of the no-longer sleeping vampire. '_Uh-oh, busted.' _Or perhaps not? A girl could hope, couldn't she?

"Mornin', love," he purred, delighted by the way her cheeks turned an adorable shade of red.

"I-I… uhm, m-morning," she stuttered, praying he hadn't noticed the way she'd been examining him.

"Enjoyin' the view?"

And there went her hopes he hadn't caught her ogling him. She felt the heat in her face increase at his comment, if it were even possible. She captured her lip again between her teeth while trying to figure a way out of her predicament. "En-enjoying the view? I-I don't know what you mean."

"U-huh, sure you don't." His eyes zeroed in on the mouth he longed to kiss, his pupils dilating with lust. "You seem rather intent on hurtin' those luscious lips of yours, sweetheart. Why don't you come closer and let me kiss 'em better instead?"

"Nu-uh." It was not that she didn't want to, but…

"Why not?" he asked curiously.

"Morning breath," she blurted out, putting a hand over her mouth and moving slightly away from him before she melted and gave in to his demand.

"Don't rightly care 'bout that. Now c'mere like a good li'l girl and give us a kiss." He grabbed her chin and pulled her close to him.

"No!"

"You don' want to kiss me, is that it?" he pouted.

"No! I mean, y-yes. Of course I do, it's just…"

"C'mon, love, I'm dyin' for a kiss. Just one, I promise, then you can go take care of that mornin' breath you're so worried bout." Not that he'd really let her go until he got his fill of her lips, at least for the time being, but he'd promise her whatever was needed to get him what he wanted.

"Alright," she sighed. "You win. But just—"

Spike pounced on her, switching their positions before she had time to finish her sentence or even protest. Not like she had a chance to. The feel of his hard body pressing her into the mattress was heavenly and when his mouth finally claimed hers, she forgot all about morning breath or any kind of breathing at all for that matter.

His tongue swept seductively over her lower lip before his teeth came into play, nibbling on it as he'd been wishing to do since he woke up. She was soft and pliant in his arms, her own climbing around his neck to pull him even closer. He drank in her moan when his tongue finally entered the moist cavern of her mouth to tangle with hers.

One kiss, he'd promised, as if that could ever be enough for him where she was concerned. She didn't seem to mind he hadn't kept his word, he thought, as their kisses grew more passionate. The kittenish sounds she was making and the delicious scent of her arousal filled the air, making him even harder than he'd been before, driving his arousal to a height he never remembered ever reaching.

He lowered his hands down her body, ghosting the undersides of her breasts and then grazing her already hard nipples as his mouth traveled down her jaw and neck, wet, open-mouthed kisses paving his way while she panted and moaned, her fingers threading into his hair, pulling him closer to her fevered skin.

Spike pressed one of his legs against her thighs until she parted them, allowing him to accommodate his lower body between them. He hissed in tortured pleasure as he felt the wet patch he made contact with through the layers of cloth covering them both and was unable to stop himself from grinding his cock against her, slowly pumping his hips in mock rendition of what their lovemaking would be.

Buffy moaned his name and that was enough to bring his mouth back up to hers, devouring each other as she desperately clung to him, her hips bucking against him in response to his actions. She was getting closer and closer with each movement of their bodies; her blood humming, her body singing as her desire for him grew out of control.

Sensing they were both too close to losing all semblance of control, Spike stopped kissing Buffy and pulled away from her delectable body. He passed his arm over his eyes, heaving unneeded breaths and gritting his teeth, all the while fighting against the urge to say to hell with it and make her his once and for all. He couldn't do it though, not now and he knew it. She deserved a magical night, with candles and wine, where they would have all the time of the world to discover each other and the pleasures their bodies would bring each other. Soon, though. It would have to be soon, because he simply couldn't wait too long to have her. Not anymore. He needed her too much to be able to wait any longer than he had to. Still, resolute as he was, he could smell her desire for him and in good faith, he couldn't leave her like that. **He** could wait, but his lady-love needed sweet release and he couldn't leave her to her own means, now could he? What kind of a gentleman would he be if he did?

Buffy opened her eyes, frowning slightly when she didn't feel his body on hers anymore and turned towards him. What happened? She'd thought they would… and then he wasn't there anymore. She'd been so close, so very close and now… her need was almost too painful to bear.

He twisted his body on the bed until he hovered over her once again, his hand caressing her face, his blue eyes almost black as they settled on hers.

"Wh-what is the matter?" she cleared her throat, apprehension having dried it up at the way he suddenly stopped his ministrations. "D-did I do something… wrong?"

"No, love, never. You didn't do anythin' wrong, it's just… you did everythin' so right I was about to cum."

She furrowed her forehead in confusion. "And that's bad?"

"No, it isn't, but when we finally make love, I want it to be perfect for you, for us."

"But… it'd be perfect any way it happened, because it's you and it's me," she pouted.

"I know, love. It's just… remember what I told you at the meadow?" She nodded. "Tha's what I want for our first time, it's what you deserve. However…" His lips curled into a mischievous grin.

"Yes?"

"I can smell your… desire." She blushed, lowering her lashes to avoid his gaze. "No, don't hide from me. Open your eyes, darling." When she did, he continued, "I can ease your ache, quell the fire that burns deep inside you… if you let me. Will you, my sweet Buffy? Will you allow me the privilege to bring you pleasure?"

Embarrassed as she was, she melted at his words. How could she not when he was being so… perfect, so understanding of her needs with no regard for himself. She loved him, wanted to be his, wanted him to take her, all of her… preferably now. But she could wait, especially with him being as sweet about it as he was and so insistent that their first time be something magical for them both. She could feel he wanted her, could see it, sense it, taste it. Yes, she would wait as he wanted. Hopefully it wouldn't be for too long though, and in the meantime, how could she say no to his request?

"Yes," she nodded, her whole body tingling with excitement as he lowered his head to capture her mouth with his once again.

She parted her lips eagerly at the first touch, her tongue meeting his halfway, dueling, dancing, fanning the fire that grew inside her as his hands skimmed all over her body.

He touched her through her clothes, knowing how tenuous his hold on his libido was, how difficult it would be to control himself if he crossed the barrier of the material. And he was determined to hold on to that control for her.

Even though his hands never touched her flesh, Buffy felt as if they did, burning a fiery path down her body to the place where she needed him the most. She could feel her desire growing, tightening, curling as it spiraled into something that threatened to overwhelm her.

He groaned when his fingertips grazed the damp evidence of her arousal, his cock hardening painfully as his need for her returned with a vengeance. Somehow, he managed to keep himself in check, using every trick he'd learned over the years to keep his focus on bringing pleasure to his love and forget about his own. His fingers pressed firmly against her slit, up and down, circling her clit and repeating the motions over and over again, delighting in every moan, sigh and pant that passed her lips, on the way her hips moved against his fingers as he brought her closer to paradise.

"I can't wait to be inside you, my sweetheart," he whispered in her ear. "Feel your heat surroundin' me, burnin' me, tightenin' around me right before I fill you full with my desire. Do you want that too, love? Tell me, my sweet girl, tell me," his voiced turned husky, nibbling on the sensitive spot behind her ear.

His words brought her higher and higher, closer and closer, and when he bit her earlobe lightly trying to press her for an answer, the coil of pleasure unfurled, pleasure as she'd never experienced burst from deep inside her womb, extending throughout her body, leaving her breathless and marveling at the wondrous sensations coursing through her being.

"Oh-my-GOD…" she panted, her face flushed from her orgasm, her mind blank after the pleasure he'd given her.

"So, I take it you enjoyed that, love?" he asked, a smug smile tugging at his lips since he knew perfectly well the answer.

She turned to him with a shy smile. "You couldn't tell?"

"Mmmm, I surely did. You look gorgeous when you cum, love. The most beautiful creature on earth you are."

"Thank you, but you… Do you want me to…" she started to ask, throwing a curious glance at the bulge outlined beneath his pajama pants. That had to uncomfortable, at the very least.

"No, not this time. Not 'cause I don't want you to, since you can obviously see I do, but… when the time comes, sweetheart… I want to be buried deep inside of you." He tucked his tongue behind his teeth and threw her a heated look.

"And when will that be… exactly?"

"Soon, very soon, I promise you." As soon as he could make the proper arrangements so that everything was nothing less than perfect. "Now, how 'bout we get some breakfast?"

"In bed?"

"If you want. Whatever strikes your fancy, sweetheart, it's yours."

She scrunched her nose adorably. "Hmmm, perhaps we should go to the kitchen? Anne and Mr. Giles must be wondering where we are."

"Kitchen it is, then. How long do you need to get ready?"

"Half an hour?" she ventured.

"Perfect. I'll come to pick you up in half an hour. Until then, my love." He kissed her lips softly and left the room, leaving Buffy to revel in what just transpired between them.

"Perfect, indeed," she said, sighing dreamily, before getting up from the bed and heading for the bathroom to get ready for breakfast.

Tbc

Now it's your turn, if you're inclined to let me know, I'd love to know what you thought of the latest...ahem, developments. ;)

Hope you have a great week!

Hugs,

Mari


	15. Chapter 15 Baroque

This time the lateness is all my fault. Well, my muse's a bit, too, I guess. ;) She's been working on two scenes for latter chapters, so it wasn't until those were almost done that she allowed me to return to this one. Sorry it's a short chapter, but to make up for it the next few would be extra-long I promise, although I can't make any promises when I'm going to update at the moment.

Thank you as always to the marvelous IBE, for keeping me in the straight and narrow, for being so very helpful and encouraging and for taking the time to beta this chapter for me. (smooches) To Tammy for the read-through and encouraging words. And of course to all of you who keep reading, reviewing and encouraging my muse with this story. Thank you from the bottom of my heart. (huggles) Hope you enjoy!

AoI won Best Spuffy Love Story on The Feeling Love Awards, Round Two, thank you to everyone that voted! You wouldn't believe how happy it makes me to know you're liking this story. smooches

_Chapter 15. Baroque_

Buffy bathed and dressed in record time, due in great part to the fact she didn't have much to choose from, what with most of her clothes still in her room at The Mandeville.

She twirled in front of the full-length mirror she'd found inside the closet's door, the form-hugging jeans and peasant blouse a long cry from anything she'd wore in front of Spike so far. Although to be fair, he'd already seen her in her pajamas and without a single drop of make-up on and he hadn't run away scared. Much to the contrary, he snuggled with her all night long. And if she said so herself, she didn't look half-bad dressed like this and hopefully he'd think so too.

She walked into the bathroom to apply her make-up and sighed dejectedly when her eyes settled on the red-purplish bruise which covered almost half of her face. She'd done her best to push Riley and what he'd attempted to do to her to the back of her mind, which was not too difficult when she was in the same room with Spike… but now he wasn't here. She was alone, faced with the fact that if he'd not gotten there in time, Riley would have succeeded.

She'd been overly confident during her encounter in the hotel's lobby when she made it both verbally and physically clear to Riley that he stood no chance with her and to back off. And even when Mr. Giles hinted at Riley's possible dark demeanor the other day, she hadn't listened, lost as she was in a Spike-induced haze.

She never expected Riley to do… well, what he tried to do. Granted she didn't really know him all that well and he'd never been anything more to her than a business contact. A rather dull, boring, slightly over-bearing business contact who kept hinting he was interested in her… no matter how much she dodged his advances. She groaned internally. Maybe she should've seen this coming? Well, it was all over now, and all thanks to her to her knight, er, vampire in shining armor.

Buffy winced as she dabbed a little foundation over her skin to cover the 'still-too-tender-to-touch' bruise and sighed again. No amount of foundation or concealer would hide it that's for sure, so perhaps she shouldn't even try. Not like she'd be seeing anyone other than Anne and Mr. Giles, or so she hoped.

Once ready, she walked back into the room and sat on the bed; her fingers lingering over the sheets as she drifted back to her memories of Spike instead, especially the most recent. Her body still hummed from his earlier attentions and her heart fluttered inside her chest at the recollection of his heated promise. 'Soon', he'd said, although soon wasn't quick enough for her. He'd been so perfect, so selfless, the ideal gentleman and she couldn't have asked for a more wondrous conclusion to the night spent lying in his arms than when he…

She didn't want to finish that thought as she was already blushing and didn't want him to see her that way or…

_"I can smell your… desire."_ His words from earlier that morning echoed in her mind. She really hadn't paid that much attention to his declaration then. How could she as lost in lust as she'd been at the time? But… but what if he could **actually** smell her? Did her arousal really have a scent or was it a vampire thing? _'Oh God, oh God, oh God.'_ Her cheeks burned with embarrassment at the mere idea. She truly needed to find out more about vampires and their 'abilities' and the sooner the better.

-------

Spike knocked on her door about thirty minutes after having walked her to her bedroom. During that time, he'd made a few phone calls to certain members of his staff and his plan for a perfect evening for two were promptly set into motion. Still, as set as he was on a magical night full of romance—one they would remember for the rest of their lives—waiting one more day felt like forever. Especially after seeing how breathtaking she looked while he pleasured her this morning… listening to her sweet moans, tiny, desire-filled pants for air and the whisper of his name in bliss. And after smelling the intoxicating aroma of her sweet release… Christ, waiting would be pure torture and letting her go home when it was time… he simply couldn't bear to think about that right now. He was determined to live in the moment and not worry about the future until he absolutely had to.

She opened the door, smiling at him and he was amazed once again at her radiance. She was truly breathtaking… even with her hair covering half her face. He wondered why she was wearing it like that. Then he remembered. He'd seen the bruise last night and again today when they woke up. Not that he could've done anything to help her heal. The important thing was that he'd gotten her out of the hotel before the oaf had a chance to harm her any further and into his house where she was safe. And this morning, well, he'd been too distracted pleasuring her to pay much attention to her injury.

If only he had the chance to meet the overgrown hall monitor once again, alone, in an obscure alley… That thought brought back another memory from the night before when they met Giles outside The Mandeville. And after reading the morning newspaper, he truly needed to talk to his employee about his suspicions and the sooner the better.

"'Lo again, love. Ready for breakfast?" he asked, before kissing her non-injured cheek lightly and offering his arm to her.

"Breakfast?" She glanced down at her wrist-watch. "It's well past noon already."

He shrugged. "So? Doesn' mean we can' have breakfast if we want to."

"Uhmm, I've been meaning to ask…" She stopped walking, turning toward him. "Do you even need food? I thought vampires only drank blood, but I've seen you eat."

"Vampires need to drink blood to survive, sweetheart, if we don', we wither away and eventually dust. That doesn' mean we can' enjoy human food on occasion."

"A-and do you…" she paused, trying to figure how to phrase her next question.

"Do I what, love?"

"I-I've seen movies where vampires drain their victims of their blood… i-is that h-how you—" Oh God, why did she think she could do this? What if he answered yes, how would she feel then?

"No, of course not. Although I won' lie to you, I used to… before. A long, long time ago." He noticed the way her posture relaxed at his answer, glad he could provide her with some measure of relief regarding his eating habits. "There are other ways, love. Private blood banks which cater to a very select clientele, for example."

"Really? So there are other vampires like you?"

"Yes, well, perhaps not exactly like me. And it's not only vampires; there are a few demons as well. There are a few of us who've learned it's best to live like this, to not bring unwanted attention upon ourselves. It's a whole less messy in the end… for all parties involved."

"Demons?" Her eyes were wide as saucers as she listened to him. First vampires were real and now it turned out there were other kinds of demons, too? What was next? Frankenstein?

"Yeah, werewolves and the like. The majority of them are human-like and really, you wouldn' know they were demons unless you were well-versed on the subject."

"O-kay. Are you well-versed in the subject?"

"'M well-versed in lots of subjects, love. There are some I excel in, though." He raised both of his eyebrows at her twice in quick succession, his trademark smirk gracing his lips, leaving her with little doubt of which subjects those might be.

'_Boy and did he ever,'_ she thought, the memory of his kisses and what happened between them that morning still fresh in her mind. She blushed under his heated stare, certain as never before he knew **exactly** what effect his words and gestures had on her.

She started walking once again, trying to keep her hormones in check. Not an easy a task considering the reason they were going haywire was right by her side, but she could give it a try at least. And keep asking some of the questions she needed answers to in the meantime.

"How about… other things?"

"Other things?" He threw her a sideways glance.

"Well, do you have enhanced senses and such?" Yeah, that should cover it… she hoped.

"Well, yes, matter of fact I do. Preternatural speed and force, enhanced senses and accelerated healin' are all part of the package, alon' with immortality."

"Like, say… hmmm, for example… smell?"

"Yes, my sense of smell is very well developed. Comes in handy, too, 'specially **every** time 'm 'round you." He delighted in the way her cheeks reddened, then leaned in to whisper in her ear, "Can't wait to find out if you taste as good as you smell, pet."

She frowned, not fully getting his meaning until he straightened up and winked at her, his indigo gaze raking sensuously up and down her body. She gasped, suddenly unsure how she should react to that last comment. Her body didn't seem to have any problems with responding, though. And he was perfectly aware of it, damn him!

She was adorable, getting all tongue-tied and flustered by his not-so-subtle innuendos. He couldn't get enough of her, of all these little moments she gifted him with. Unable to help himself for it had been too bloody long since he'd kissed her, he brought his hands up to cup her face and then capturing her lips in a passionate kiss.

She tasted like heaven, he thought as his tongue entered her mouth to tangle with hers. The most intoxicating elixir he'd ever sampled, one taste and he was completely inebriated. And he could only imagine how much more addicting savoring the evidence of her desire for him right from the source would be.

Buffy was drowning once again, falling as she always did whenever he kissed her. The world faded around them as they got lost in each other, her arms twining around his neck to press herself closer to him, to melt against the hardness of his muscular body.

Only one more day, he repeated over and over in his mind. His mouth left hers to trail a moist path down her neck, his teeth worrying the soft skin over her pulse point. Only one more day until she would be his—one which more likely would feel like a century to him. He pulled away from her, resting his forehead against hers, their eyes closed and their chests heaving as they drew in ragged breaths.

"I love you, Buffy," he blurted. "God, I love you so much."

Both of them backed away, almost equally astonished by the words that left his mouth, their eyes wide open and drawn to the other's to gauge their reaction.

He hadn't meant to say it like that. That didn't, however, make the words any less true, the sentiment any less sincere. He loved her and while it might be too early in their relationship for her to say it back… he could only hope she'd say them before she left.

He loved her? She blinked, for a second thinking she might've heard him wrong until her gaze locked with his and she saw the truth burning brightly amidst the azure depths. "Y-you… do?" she asked, needing the reassurance of him saying it again.

"I do," he nodded.

"Well, that works great then," she beamed at him.

_It did? Huh._ "Care to elaborate a bit there, darlin'?" He didn't want to get his hopes up just to have them crushed down a second later, although it was getting very difficult not to with the way she was looking at him, smiling at him.

"Because I love you too, you doofus."

tbc

Hope you enjoy the little prezzie I left you with and of course, if you're inclined to letting me know what you thought of the chapter, I'll be happy to read it. ;)

Happy Holidays and a wonderful 2008 to all of you!

hugs

Mari


	16. Chapter 16 Gothic

Happy New Year to all my lovely readers/reviewers! Hope you enjoy the next installment in the story that doesn't want to end. ;) Spike and Buffy keep whispering all kind of things to lengthen the story. sighs Hope you don't mind too much? Although we're really nearing the end now, just 4 more chapters (I hope)

Thank you as always to all of you who take the time to review. They brighten my days and I promise I'll get to answering to them as soon as I can. Lots of hugs to my lovely IBE, I really, **really** appreciate your time, your help and just for being your adorable self. Love you, darling! Thanks as well to OKDeanna for the read through.

A little note: I messed up with a paragraph in the last chapter, thank you MysticAngel77 for letting me know so I could correct it. Just so you don't have to go back and read it again (I won't stop you if you want to, though) ;), here's the corrected part.

She didn't want to finish that thought as she was already blushing and didn't want him to see her that way or…

_"I can smell your… desire."_ His words from earlier that morning echoed in her mind. She really hadn't paid that much attention to his declaration then. How could she as lost in lust as she'd been at the time? But… but what if he could **actually** smell her? Did her arousal really have a scent or was it a vampire thing? _'Oh God, oh God, oh God.'_ Her cheeks burned with embarrassment at the mere idea. She truly needed to find out more about vampires and their 'abilities' and the sooner the better.

_Chapter 16. Gothic _

"Because I love you too, you doofus." 

He was dumbstruck, her words echoing in his head, in his heart, filling him with something he never thought he'd feel again…

Life.

He now felt more alive than he ever had, even when his heart still beat inside his chest and his own blood raced in his veins. He closed his eyes for a second while, trying to contain the intense wave of emotion that threatened to overwhelm him.

_He's so quiet and why won't he look at me?_ she wondered, her brow furrowing slightly as her insecurity returned with a vengeance. Perhaps she shouldn't have said anything? She thought she was doing the right thing by telling him of her feelings as well, but now she wasn't so sure.

Spike must have somehow felt her inner turmoil because the next thing he did sent all of her doubts sailing away.

He finally opened his eyes, locking them with hers and what she saw there made her breath hitch in her throat, her heart leap in her chest. He was looking at her like she'd never been looked at before meeting him, with so much reverence, love, awe and she fell so much harder for him than she'd thought possible… right now… in this singular moment.

Everything in his world began and ended with her. She was his sun, his light, his life, his love. He'd gladly place all of his earthly goods at her feet, give her everything she ever wanted if he could provide it and even if he couldn't, he'd move heaven, hell and earth to somehow make it happen. He'd do just about anything—possible or impossible—to keep her, even if he was aware that was something that would never happen. **Could** never happen.

He could live a dream, though. Dream a little dream in which he could fool himself into believing a lowly creature like him could ever deserve a goddess like her. Who cared what happened when he woke up and found himself with only beautiful memories of her to keep him company for eternity? Memories of her, of loving her, of being loved by her were the second best thing to having her… At least he'd still have those; no matter what happened, no one and nothing could ever take those away from him.

It wouldn't do to dwell on what he couldn't change, though. Not when Buffy was still there with him, her face upturned toward him, her eyes bright emerald ponds in which a man—no, not just any man, his whole self roared possessively—**he** could drown in.

The need to touch her, mark her as his even if not in the way he truly wished to, overpowered everything else in his mind and he crushed her lips to his, molding her petite frame to his body, his hands trailing over her curves, pulling her impossibly closer to him as his tongue plundered her luscious mouth.

She wasn't sure how he did it. How with one kiss he stole her breath, her heart, her senses away. His hands seemed to be everywhere at once, his lips devouring her, branding her, almost as if he were laying a permanent claim on her of an otherworldly sort. Oh God, how she wished he would do just that.

They would somehow find a way to stay together, how could they not? He loved her and she loved him and she wasn't afraid of giving her heart to someone, no, not someone… to him. She wasn't afraid of anything as long as he was there by her side. Of anything except him rejecting her. That wouldn't happen though, not now. It couldn't, wasn't possible.

The kiss ended as fast as it started, Spike taking a step back from the temptation of her lips when he heard footsteps approaching rapidly from around the corridor. And sure enough, Giles appeared in the hallway they occupied carrying two large suitcases.

Buffy's face flamed, while she wished the floor would open up and swallow her whole when she finally noticed the older British man walking towards them, not only because of what happened last night—although that hadn't been her fault—but of how he almost found them now. Enhanced vampire hearing really came in handy every once in a while it might seem.

"Good afternoon, Miss Buffy, Master William." He made a curt bow towards each of them.

"Morning, Mr. Giles. Are those my things?" _Duh, Buffy, who else could them belong to?_

"Yes, Miss. I'm taking them to your room right now, if that's alright?"

"Oh yes, that's fine. Thank you. I'll arrange them later." She smiled at him.

"Well, if you excuse me…"

"Giles?" Spike interrupted him before he left. "Need to talk to you after we finish eatin' breakfast. I'll ring you once we're done."

"Certainly, sir." He dreaded what that talk might entail, but in a way, he knew it was coming. And although he still kept that tiny spark of hope that what Master William had to tell him had nothing to do with last night's events, he very much doubted it. Very little of what happened in the estate or with the other employees got past the master vampire without him knowing about it.

The older gentleman hadn't walked five steps away when Spike had her pinned between the closest wall and his hard body. "Now… where were we, love?"

"We were…" she stood on her tiptoes to bring her mouth close to his ear, "…going to…" she nibbled lightly on his lobe, making him moan rather loudly. Her eyes twinkled with mischief, quite proud of herself by the way he was reacting to her unusual forwardness, waiting until he was distracted enough by her lips trailing down his jaw and throat before pushing him away and escaping from his arms, walking backwards down the same corridor where Giles had appeared a little while before, "…have breakfast, remember?" she finished with a wink.

Giggling at his stunned look, she blew him a kiss and turned away from him, moving toward what she hoped was the kitchen, all the while feeling his heated gaze on her back.

_The little tease…_ For a second he was too astonished to do anything but watch her sashay those sinful hips as she advanced down the hallway, her bubbling laughter music to his ears. A devilish grin tugged at his mouth, she had no idea who she was playing with. _Absolutely no idea at all._ But she was about to find out.

She heard a 'whoooosh' coming from somewhere behind her and pivoted on her heel to see what it was. She half expected to hear Spike's footsteps following her, but didn't, nothing but that weird sound. She frowned when she also noticed he wasn't where she left him either. Where on earth had he disappeared to and so quickly?

Buffy decided to ask Anne where she could find him, if anyone knew it would be her. She was about to do just that when a pair of cold hands grabbed her waist, twirling her around until she was facing Spike, who somehow had managed to appear in front of her without her seeing or hearing him do so.

"Boo!" he whispered then smiled. She jumped slightly in his arms, helping him settle her more firmly against him, delighted by her obvious surprise at finding him there. For someone that hadn't used many of his 'powers' in quite a long time, he wasn't doing too bad it seemed.

"B-but… you-you… I just saw you back there. How?" she asked him, her eyes wide with surprise and confusion as she looked behind her then back at him.

"I have my ways," he smirked at her. "Now, Miss Summers, I seem to recall you owe me a little somethin'."

"That's cheating, you know?"

"Well, probably is, although that little stunt you pulled back there," he tilted his head to signal where they previously stood, "was cheatin' as well, wouldn't you say? So, I'd say we're even, love, and you still owe me a kiss."

"I guess playing tag with you is completely out of the question," she pouted which elicited a chuckle out of the vampire.

"You shouldn't be that surprised, I did tell you of my preternatural speed, love." He shrugged nonchalantly.

"You do that in bed and I'll have to call you minute man." She gave him her most innocent look, almost exploding in full-blown laughter at his indignant,

"OI!!! Who are you calling minute man?"

"No one… yet." She winked at him, before continuing, "Anyway, seriously you forgot to add you move so stealthily I never heard or saw you go by me," she accused him, even if good-naturedly. She'd seen him move fast before, only not as fast that she couldn't detect any of his movements. "Almost like one of those big felines when they're hunting. Waiting, biding its time to pounce on its victim when she least expects it."

"Pouncin' on you… mmmmm, now tha's a thought worthy of explorin'," he said in a husky whisper. "And just so you know, I have other moves… slower, faster, softer, **harder**." He advanced towards her, his eyes centered on her bottom lip as she wet it with the tip of her tongue until he had her corralled against a hard surface, grinding his hips against hers to punctuate each word. "Whatever tickles your fancy, love."

He lowered his face towards her, too intent on kissing her to notice they were leaning against the revolving door that led to the kitchen which gave way with their combined weight.

Only his quick reflexes prevented them from falling to the floor, ending up with Buffy in a dipping position as if they were dancing, both too surprised by what happened to do anything but look at each other.

Anne 'eeped', shocked by their sudden appearance, pressing a hand to her chest. "Good Lord, lad, what are you trying to do? Give me a heart attack?"

He straightened them both, leaving his arms around Buffy before answering with a wink, "'Course not, just savin' a damsel in distress from fallin' to the floor."

"Hmmphh, sure you were. Knowing you it must have been your fault she was falling in the first place." She rolled her eyes at him. "Now take your paws off the girl. She needs to be fed. Honestly, William, what kind of a host are you?" she teased, smiling inwardly when she noticed the change in their attitude regarding the other. It was obvious William and Buffy were very much in love and watching how hard it seemed to keep their eyes and hands away from the other was truly endearing.

"The best there is. Just ask Buffy." He threw her a heated glance.

Buffy giggled, before nodding her agreement. Oh yeah, if his way of waking her up was anything to go by, he was definitely the host WITH the most.

Oh yes, things were certainly looking up for William and she couldn't be happier for him as she served them both breakfast.

----------

"What are your plans for the day, love?" he asked after escorting her back to her room right after eating.

"Well, I don't have much planned, take my clothes out of the suitcases mostly, but I figured after that perhaps… you'll let me explore your pretty manor?" She batted her eyelashes at him coquettishly. Just thinking of seeing, of being able to study all the wonderful art she'd only glimpsed at the day before had her giddy with excitement.

"Certainly, darlin'." He smiled at her fondly. "Feel free to roam the house at will. 'M sorry I can't join you though, I have a few things to do today includin' work on that paintin' I promised would be ready before you leave. If you don't mind, I'll meet up with you for dinner?"

"That sounds perfect, thank you very much, kind sir." She curtsied before him, a big smile gracing her lips and was about to enter her room when he stopped her.

"You still owe me a kiss, love; don't think for a second I've forgotten. But… if I start now, I won't get anythin' done of what I have to accomplish today, sooo…" he took her hand in his and turned it, kissing the pulse point at her wrist. "Until I see you again, my love."

She just about melted at his gentlemanly gesture, reclining against the door for support as she watched him walk away until he disappeared around the corner. Buffy sighed dreamily when she finally entered her room, twirling until she fell on the bed. He loved her. He LOVED her. _God, if this is a dream, please, __**please**__, don't let me wake up… ever._

----------

Spike read the newspaper while he waited for Giles to join him in the library and the news he found on page three only made his suspicions grow concerning what might have transpired the night before… after the big oaf left the hotel.

Not that he minded if they were confirmed or not, the end result was brilliant either way, but he still needed to be certain. Just then a knock sounded on the heavy wooden door.

"Come in." He motioned for Giles to occupy the seat in front of him once he entered and noticed the man paled slightly as he saw the newspaper in his hands. "Read the news this mornin', Giles? I found a couple very interestin' articles in here."

"Erm, no, haven't read it yet, Master William."

"Hmmm, pity. So… you wouldn't know anythin' about an American man they found bloodied and bruised in an alley nearby The Mandeville, would you… Ripper?"

To his credit, Giles didn't even blink at being discovered. He'd known his master would figure it out sooner or later, though he'd hoped it would have been later. His defense, if he needed one, was that he'd done what was necessary to protect his Master and Miss Buffy. And if he had to do it again, he would without a second thought.

Taking his glasses off, he started polishing them with a handkerchief, a smirk on his lips as he continued denying his involvement. It was all part of the game. "American man, Sir?" He cleared his throat. "No-no, of course not, I don't know a thing about such matters."

"It's a peculiar case, it seems Doctor Ethan Rayne had to step in and move him to Bedlam, some kind of psychosis due to alcoholism. If I remember right, Doctor Rayne is a good friend of yours, isn't he?"

"Yes, he is."

"Most convenient that he was at the hospital they took the man to, isn't it?"

"Well, not really. He does consultations there every once in a while."

"Thought you didn't know anythin' of the case, Ripper." He winked and smiled, extending his right hand to him. "Congratulations, I couldn't have done it better myself."

"Thank you, Sir. Although I'm sure you would have done a much better job of it."

"I doubt it, my friend. Bedlam? Now that was bloody brilliant. The place has more guards and barbed wire than Alcatraz and I know for sure Doctor Rayne will take very good care of the pillock."

"Oh yes, he's already raving over all the 'experiments' he's going to try with his new favorite patient." Giles smiled when remembering a few his friend had described over the phone. He almost wished he could join him for some of them. Perhaps he would, remember old times and such.

"Hmmm, I think it'd be only fair if I were to… say, make a sizeable donation to his cause. He's doing us all a huge favor. As did you, old chap, anythin' you need, anythin' at all… just ask and it's yours."

"I have everything I need, Sir, but if I think of anything I'll be sure to let you know."

As he walked back to the kitchen, Giles thought perhaps he could ask for some free time to join Ethan for a little trip down memory lane. He was sure even Anne would consent to it, if her reaction when he told her what he did last night was anything to go by. Hell, knowing her and how protective she was of those she considered family, he'd be willing to bet good money she'd love to help with whatever Ethan was planning for his newest toy.

----------

When Buffy entered the library a few hours later, she'd already navigated through most of the house in awe at the amount of original paintings and sculptures she'd found. It was almost as if she were visiting a museum, the only difference being that in here, no one was breathing down her neck to see if she was about to run off with one of them.

Which was weird all in itself. She supposed there must be other people working in the manor. Anne and Giles wouldn't be able to take care of everything in an estate this size. Although now that she came to think about it, her room had been made when she returned from having breakfast with Spike, and Anne had been with them during that time, so it was obvious there was at least another person in the house. Perhaps this was one of those houses where some employees were almost invisible and perhaps she should just ask Spike or Anne about it and stop asking herself questions she'd never get answers to.

Her eyes rested on a very expensive looking chess set on the other side of the room and couldn't resist coming forward to inspect it. It was gorgeous. The pieces were finely crafted in crystal and ebony and the board was a masterpiece all in itself, white and black marble pieces intermingling to form the familiar chess board. Well, familiar because she'd seen boards before not because she actually knew how to play the game. _I'd love to learn, though._

Her attention was soon diverted to the book shelves, curious over what kind of literature Spike enjoyed. Shakespeare, Goethe, Jules Verne, Emily Bronte, Nathaniel Hawthorne, the Grimm Brothers, Moliere, Keats, Lord Tennyson, Thoreau. Her eyes widened more and more as she reverently scanned the titles and authors she found. Some of the books were obviously very old editions, and judging by what she'd seen so far, several must be first editions… which shouldn't surprise her either. Even though she wasn't sure how old Spike truly was, he was probably around to purchase most of them fresh off the press.

She continued perusing through the titles, discovering a little bit more about the man she loved with each one of them. It was obvious these weren't here for show, the binders looked worn, like he'd read some of these books many times. Again not surprising, he'd have a lot of time to read… and paint… and do a lot of things she didn't even want to imagine at the moment.

Just when she was about to move to another shelf she saw a small book to her left. Chess: A Play by Play to Success. _Oh nice, just what I need to learn how to play. With some luck it won't be as difficult as it seems._ She pulled it out from the shelf and was about to open it when she saw something behind it which grabbed her attention. It was a medium-sized book, leather-bound and completely unassuming, it didn't even have a title on the front or on the binder, but there was something about it, something…

Unable to resist, she opened it and gasped at the title, _Vampyre, Lore and Laws._ With shaky fingers she turned the pages until she found the table of contents, perusing through it until a chapter's name caught her notice, _Chapter XVI. Mating Rituals._ She wasn't all too sure what Mating meant but the next two sub-entries made her all the more curious. A) Vampire/Vampire Mating Ritual. _Ewww, no, moving on._ Her heart hammered wildly within her chest when she saw: B) Vampire/Human Mating Ritual... Page 56.

Turning to page 56, she began reading, her heart rate increasing with every word…

tbc

A little pimping before I leave, voting has started at The Spuffy Awards. You don't have to vote for me if you don't want to, there are lots of wonderful stories nominated over there. So, go and vote for your favorites at: spuffyawards (dot) jaded-paradise (dot) net (slash) vote (dot) php. Just read the rules on the voting page first. ;)

hugs

Mari


	17. Chapter 17 Fauvism

Can you believe I wrote another chapter already? Yeah, neither can I. giggles I do hope you all enjoy it, though. I wasn't going to post it until tomorrow, but the lovely Sotia wanted to read it today, so here it is. Thank you very much for everything again, cariño! hugs

Thanks for the awesome reviews for the last chapter, I do love reading and answering to all of them. hugs And a huge, enormous hug to my darling IBE, without her coaching, encouraging and her excellent betaing skills this chapter wouldn't be half as good. smooches And to Tammy and OKDeanna for the read-through. snuggles

_Chapter 17. Fauvism_

Buffy's heart pounded wildly inside her chest as she neared her room, her gaze nervously darting back and forth the length of the hallways she traveled while she held the book against her breast. She felt like a criminal for what she was doing, but was unable to stop herself.

True, Spike said she could roam the house at will, but she doubted said roaming included books about vampires which were hidden from plain view. Which was precisely why she hadn't stayed in the library in the first place.

There was too much of a chance anyone—_Spike_—could walk in and discover what she was up to. She didn't want to risk losing him over something like this. After all she had no idea how he might react to her finding the book even if it had been completely fortuitous and still… Still, she needed to know, find out if there was a way, any way in which they could remain together. Any possibility, remote or far-fetched as it might seem was worthy of being explored.

She entered her room and sat on the bed, heaving a huge sigh of relief before opening the book to page 56 again and re-reading the passage.

While it was written in what could only be considered Old English, the text was easy enough to comprehend… even for her. Mating was an indissoluble bond, a marriage of sorts in which a vampire claimed a partner for eternity. The claim had to be acknowledged expressly by the intended and returned for it to be completed. And in the very rare cases in which a vampire had mated with a human, their lifelines had been tied together with that of the vampire, making it so the human would live for as long as its mate. There were very few successful cases documented, though, as in many occasions the vampire had been unable to control itself and wound up either killing or turning the human instead of mating with it.

She shivered at that last part, covering her neck with her hand as if someone might sneak up behind her and drain her if she didn't. This reading was so not for the weak of heart.

She reclined on the headboard while mulling over what she just read, the book all but forgotten in her lap. Trying to grasp what doing this could mean for her, for Spike, for them as a couple.

As she saw it, mating was an act of love, of ultimate trust. It was forever; or for as long as the vampire survived since its human mate's life was tied to his, nothing short of that could dissolve the bond once it had been accepted. Nothing.

She trusted Spike. She had witnessed the incredible control he had over himself on several occasions… with her, with Riley. He was not a regular vampire; he knew how to overrule his demon's natural inclinations, that much was obvious by the few times he'd let it loose in her presence. How else could one explain why he turned his back on his vampiric nature like he did when Riley attacked her? It'd been clear he'd been furious, but even then… even then his first thought had been for her safety, for her well-being. He'd restrained himself admirably and she had no reason to believe he wouldn't do the same if they did this. If they mated.

On the other hand, how long had she dreamt of having forever with someone she could love as much as she loved Spike? Probably her whole life. Ever since her father left her mother and her for his secretary and forgot they even existed, at the very least. To be with a person who would put her above everyone else, who would cherish her, love her as unconditionally as she would love him.

And that was how she felt about Spike. She was completely, deeply, head over heels, unashamedly in love with him. It'd been fast, perhaps too fast, but that didn't make it any less real, any less true. She felt as if she were caught in a whirlwind, a tornado of emotions, feelings and sensations and he was the only thing that kept her grounded.

She wasn't afraid of doing this, of feeling like this, though. She was certain his feelings for her must run deep otherwise he'd never revealed them to her. His declaration had been surprising and not just for her. It'd been clear he hadn't planned on saying it like that. Being the romantic that he was, he must have thought of saying it on the perfect night he insisted on having with her. The way he said it didn't meant it wasn't true, though. He loved her, the look in his eyes, the tone of his voice when he said the words, the way he treated her and wanted things to be perfect for them… yes, he loved her and she loved him back.

She sighed dreamily, picturing his elated reaction when she told him she knew of a way they could be together forever, how he'd whisk her in his arms and make love to her before claiming her as his and how she could hardly wait until that moment.

That's when an idea began forming in her head… _Hmmm, perhaps I don't have to wait._ Maybe she could convince him that it truly didn't matter to her to wait for a 'perfect moment'. She was more than ready and willing for him; in fact, were she any more ready, she'd surely combust. And he wouldn't be able to resist her, of that she was certain. She would make sure of that!

A pleased smile gracing her lips, she watched the clock on the nightstand and saw it was a quarter after seven. Anne said he would pick her up at eight to escort her to the dining room, so it left her forty five minutes to set things up. Perfect! Enough time to take a bath and wait for him.

Should she ask Anne to hold dinner for them? It wasn't like she was hungry; she had tea and sandwiches with Spike's housekeeper in the kitchen before going to the library and with the huge butterflies flying inside her stomach right now, food was the least of her concerns. Although she didn't want to be too obvious, otherwise Spike, or even worse Anne might suspect she was up to something and she couldn't have that. Nu-uh, soooo… what to do? _Maybe…_ yes, that was it!

Eagerly and more than a little anxious, she made her preparations to set her plan into action. When she was ready, she called Anne and sighed in relief when she learned Spike was in the kitchen with her. It made everything so much easier and she could kill two birds with one stone.

Claiming she was feeling a little tired after exploring the manor that afternoon, she begged out of dinner and told the housekeeper to please ask Spike if he'd be so sweet as to bring her a glass of milk to her room at eight o'clock sharp since she wanted to take a bath before going to bed.

After hanging up the phone, she went into the bathroom and pulled out what she needed while the tub filled with steaming hot water. She pinned her hair up and after putting a few drops of her favorite vanilla essence in her bath, she submerged in it, trying to relax and not think too much of what was coming.

_--------_

_A little while later…_

It had been hell for Spike to wait forty five minutes to see Buffy again, especially with as worried as he was over her well-being after Anne told him she wouldn't be having dinner with him tonight. He'd all but dug a trench in the middle of the kitchen by pacing its length back and forth, under Anne's amused gaze, damn her to hellfire. And to make things worse, she hadn't allowed him to leave the room until the very last minute, the nerve of the woman!

True, he only needed a few seconds to go from the kitchen to Buffy's room, but still… Oh well, at least he was here now and would see with his own eyes if she was all right or not.

He knocked on her door, expecting to see her lovely face when she opened it but instead receiving a slightly shaky 'come in'. Concerned and curious at her tone, he turned the knob and entered the room only to be rendered completely speechless at the sight that greeted him inside.

There, in the middle of the bed, propped against the headboard, lay Buffy in all her… well, almost naked glory. His eyes raked lustfully over her curvaceous form. Her skin was like liquid gold, smooth and flawless, making him itch to run his hands across every bit of it. Every part of her his eyes discovered as they traveled from her small feet to the crown of her magnificent mane was breathtakingly beautiful. His gaze passed over her long, toned legs, the shadows that covered her mound from her position, the smallness of her waist and the most perfect breasts he'd ever laid eyes upon in all his hundred plus years.

_Gorgeous,_ every delicious inch of her was gorgeous. A golden goddess at whose altar he'd happily worship until he dusted, if it were possible.

He'd love to paint her looking like that, all innocent allure and devious enticement, but he doubted he'd be able to do her justice or overrule his libido long enough for him to make more than a few strokes on the canvas before wanting to caress her naked flesh with his fingers instead. As it was, it was getting more difficult by the second to control his impulses and not pounce on her.

He bit down the growl that rose unbidden in his throat when he noticed the lacy bra… **her** lacy bra, dangling from her fingers as she twirled it around. Spike swallowed… hard, unable to do anything but stare at her as most of his borrowed blood flew south.

His hold over himself, over his demon, was fragile at best; especially when he finally managed to drag his eyes away from her succulent curves and settled them on her face, his senses extending to capture all those subtle signs of how she was truly feeling and what he felt almost brought him to his knees.

While her outward demeanor showed self-confidence at exposing herself like this, it was pretty obvious to him she was anything but. And Good Lord if that didn't make him want her that much more. The tell-tale blush which stained her face and neck, the erratic beat of her heart, the thundering roar of her blood racing in her veins blended delightfully with the intoxicating aroma of vanilla, her arousal and… was that fear? Of him, of what might happen between them or… perhaps his reaction?

He hadn't said a word from the moment he crossed through the door, the glass of milk in his hand all but forgotten as his indigo gaze burned a fiery path up and down her body. She wasn't sure what she'd expected, or well, that was a lie, she knew what **she** wanted to happen. She'd hoped he would throw his plans of perfection down the drain when he saw her like this, but so far it didn't seem to be working. Desire, embarrassment and an ever-growing dose of dread warred inside her as the seconds ticked by while she waited with bated breath for his reaction, any kind of reaction, as long as the wait was over.

Her throat and her mouth were parched; her heart felt as if it would escape from her chest at any moment and he still hadn't said anything. _Damn him!_ She sighed shakily, she was all but offering herself on a silver platter and he couldn't even say **something**, cooperate a little bit? It wasn't as if she did this on a regular basis or well… ever.

With his attention fixed on the golden nymph in front of him, he wasn't aware that he'd dropped the glass, which thankfully didn't break even if its contents spilled all over the floor and the lower part of his pants.

He only snapped out of the lustful haze surrounding him when he saw the crestfallen look on her face at his lack of response. _'Move, you wanker, do something!'_ he commanded himself, moving forward until he was as close to her as he dared to be, unsure he'd be able to rein in his desire if he came one inch closer to her, let alone what might happen if he touched her with anything other than his eyes.

His azure gaze was all but devouring her and she had to fight the urge to grab the duvet and cover herself, although that would defeat the whole purpose of the plan, now wouldn't it?

"Are you just going to stand there?"

"I-you…" Standing at the bedside, his hand reached out to her, hovering over her leg before he seemed to snap out of whatever trance he was in and pulled it back to his side, clenching and unclenching it while a muscle in his jaw twitched as he fought to retain control of himself.

Her confidence returned at the smoldering caress of his eyes over her body. It was obvious he wanted her even if there was something holding him back. Perhaps he just needed a little… reassurance. "It's alright…" she said, dropping the bra to the floor and leaning forward to grab his hand, bringing it to rest on the overheated skin of her stomach. _Mmmmm, cold._ She shivered, desire escalating at the thought of feeling his cold skin against hers… all over. "…you can touch me."

"Buffy… I-I…" he trailed off, unable to find the words to express what he wanted to say. His mind, his demon, his whole body demanded he took what she so sweetly offered, but he couldn't. He wanted their first time to be special and though he could appreciate… He snorted inwardly at his choice of words, _yeah, right!_ Okay, he was bloody reveling in her eagerness to have him, still… he wasn't about to let his plans go down the tubes because he couldn't keep his libido in check when it came to her. But then again, there were… 'other things' they could do in the meantime to which he had no problem with. Absolutely none at all, if she only agreed to them.

He sat down on the bed at her side while looking into her eyes, and with a mind of its own, the hand she held to her body began to lightly caress the silky skin beneath his fingertips while he prayed she would say yes to what he was about to propose. "I want our first time to be… different from this. But… until then I have somethin' in mind that would bring you… much satisfaction. If you're… willin'?"

Buffy had been sure he was about to reject her when he started talking, and while he sort of had, that 'something' he had in his mind had her intrigued. If it were anything like what happened this morning, she knew she wouldn't be disappointed. "I'm… willing for anything you'll give me."

"Actually, love, it's something you can give me." He grinned devilishly at her, delighting in the way her breath caught in her throat, before she asked,

"Oh? And what is that?"

Spike stood up, shedding off his vest and tie and throwing them carelessly on the floor before walking to the end of the bed. Buffy watched in mute fascination when once there he began crawling ever so slowly up her body. Her whole being trembled with anticipation at what he might be planning to do to her. But, whatever it was, he was off to one hell of a start.

He ran one hand sensuously up her calf, then her thigh, until he reached her scantily clothed mound, pinning her with those amazing bluer than blue eyes of his, asking in a husky murmur, "Jus' a li'l taste?"

She would have said yes to anything he would've suggested by now, if she were able to talk that is. As it was, she barely managed to gulp and nod her acquiescence.

He lowered his eyes to the tiny scrap of clothing that covered her womanhood and inhaled deeply, instantly getting drunk off her scent, his eyes flashing from blue to amber as he struggled to keep control over his demon.

She noticed his inner struggle and decided to show him once and for all that she accepted, **loved** all of him. Raising a hand to cup his cheek she told him with total conviction in her voice, "Don't hold back. There's no need for that. All I want, all I need is you... all of you."

He could have swore his heart was about to start beating at her words, at the way she looked at him. And suddenly he was too enthralled, too captivated to keep denying her—and himself—this little treat. Salivating at how delicious she smelled, he slipped into game-face. Lust-filled amber eyes settled on the one thing that separated him from her cunny before tearing it off with his teeth, making her gasp in pleasure when his fingers spread the pink petals of her sex. His tongue laved her slit from top to bottom, carefully, mindful of not hurting her with his fangs. Dual moans emanated from them as he drowned in her flavor and she moved her head from side to side, lost in the sensations he elicited in her.

Not so lost, however, that she wished to share the gratification in the same manner to him. She wanted, needed, craved to give him as much pleasure as he was giving her.

She brought her hands to his hair, combing it tenderly with her fingers as she brought his head up until their eyes locked.

"You said only a little taste."

He looked at her, cocking an eyebrow questioningly. Did she truly want him to stop?

"And I'd like a… little taste myself." She pouted, batting her eyelashes at him. "If you would oblige me?"

He blinked, had he heard her right? Christ, he hoped so. It was a bloody wet dream come true just thinking of those sinful pink lips of hers wrapped around his shaft, sucking him into oblivion… His cock lengthened to painful proportions inside his denim jeans, the zipper biting on the sensitized head.

He swallowed, his Adam's apple bobbing in his throat, his game face melting into the more familiar planes of the man she loved, indigo gaze full of surprise settling on hers. "Do you mean that, love? You don't have—"

"I know I don't have to… but I really want to," she said in earnest. "If that's alright with you?"

He didn't need her to tell him twice as he rose up from the bed but not before he placed a gentle kiss to her mound. Winking at her, he started shedding his clothes, his azure eyes fixed on her face.

Breathlessly, she followed every second of his impromptu striptease. Each piece of cloth he shed revealing more of his body to her hungry eyes. Shirt, undershirt, shoes, socks, and finally pants and nothing else to obstruct her view as he stood proudly in front of her. He was beautiful, sculpted like one of those Greek Gods she'd studied in her Art History class in College. A man with the body of a God, compact and lean, not a gram of excess fat on those criminally tempting abs.

Her gaze traveled downwards, her eyes almost bulging out of her sockets as she saw his cock for the first time. He was big, no, **huge** and she'd probably have a hard time fitting all of him in her mouth, but then again… she was nothing if not ingenious, she'd find a way to do it, pleasure him until she swallowed every single drop of his essence as it shot down her throat. The thought alone was enough to have her salivating, panting and flushing, her juices flowing freely to coat her inner thighs with her excitement.

"Like what you see, love?" he asked cockily, one of his hands traveling down his body.

"Oh yes, I like, or rather love what I see," she answered with a seductive smile, beckoning him with a crooked finger. "Now… come here. You're too far away."

"Whatever **my** lady wants," he purred, nearing her to steal her breath away with a searing kiss, lying down on the bed by her side. She was so beautiful, an angel, _my own little naughty angel,_ he thought as he felt her hand skimming down his chest, lower and lower until her fingers encircled the base of his cock, grasping him firmly and then stroking him up and down, down and up.

With a gasp as his tenuous control over his lust almost shattered in a million pieces, he broke the kiss and before she had time to react she was on top of him facing his manhood, while Spike dove into her neatly shaved pussy, drawing out a surprised squeal from her.

It took her a few seconds to recover, the pleasure coursing through her at his actions almost too much for her to bear. She finally moved forward, her lips opening to take the tip of him into the moist cavern of her mouth, moaning at the first taste of him exploding on her taste buds.

The woman was killing him, the little mewling noises she made, her scent, the tangy flavor of her desire coating his tongue… the way she was sucking him in, almost as if she couldn't enough, taking him deeper with each pass, her hands playing with the base of his cock and his balls at the same time. Yeah, she was killing him, but what a way to go.

He still couldn't believe she wanted to do this for him and at the same time, how could he doubt it, her, when she was being so intense, so… passionate about it, like she was determined to please him as much as he hopefully was pleasing her.

He grabbed one of her cheeks, pulling her closer to his mouth, his tongue delving deeper into her sweetness, drinking her down while one of his fingers circled her clit softly, expertly, bringing her closer and closer to the brink.

Buffy grounded her pussy against his mouth, seeking, wanting, needing more, her climax so close and yet so far away. She licked Spike's cock, the base, the sides, the underside, the little slit on the crown, reveling in its thickness, on its taste, on the way it throbbed when she put it inside her mouth and sucked around it, even in the way it smelled. It smelled and tasted like him, pure male, pure power, pure Spike.

He wasn't going to last long, much as he'd loved for her to suck him into another lifetime, he just couldn't keep staving his orgasm. Not when he felt her hot mouth surrounding him, her vaginal walls scorching his fingers, tongue with her juices, pulsating with the imminence of her sweet release while her honeyed taste flowed freely onto his lips and mouth. Addicting, that's what she was. And he couldn't stop craving for more of her, wanting her, needing her in every way he could have her, in any way she would allow.

She relaxed her throat muscles, suppressing her gag reflex to take him all the way in, swallowing, moaning around him. Showing him with this action how much she wanted him, loved him, needed him.

She was making love to him with her mouth, with every delicate swipe of her tongue, every meaningful suck and the way she took of his full length inside her throat… giving as much of herself to him as she was receiving from him.

He redoubled his efforts, devouring her, consuming her, wanting more of her mouth-watering elixir running down his throat—needing everything she had to give as he brought her to orgasm. Willingly giving her all he had, all he was. His whole being, man and monster uniting in the sole purpose of pleasuring her, of loving her in this way.

His long tongue speared into her tight channel as deeply as possible, wishing it was his cock instead. He'd give anything to feel her delicious quim surrounding him as her sweet mouth was doing right now. Squeezing him, tightening around him as they both raced towards their climax.

He moaned into her at the same time she moaned around him, their desire escalating higher and higher until it erupted, enveloping them in a wave of all-encompassing bliss.

He drank down the honey that flowed from her quim, getting high on her taste and cumming harder than he ever imagined when he felt her swallowing every thick stream of his salty seed that shot forth. He hadn't expected her to, and somehow it made him feel much more possessive of her, fall even more in love with her when he realized she'd meant what she said before… she wanted all of him. Man, monster, everything, every part of him. Same as he wanted all of her, everything she was willing to give...

She was in awe over this new experience with him, marveling at the sense of pride and feminine power that surged inside her, but most of all of complete fulfillment… her own and at having been able to give pleasure to the man she loved. She continued tenderly licking his softening cock and placing sweet, meaningful kisses to the tip, loathing to put an end to this amazing moment they shared.

Lovingly, he helped her up placing her by his side on the bed, cuddling with her as their fingers entwined. A million words swimming inside his head, a million thoughts and a prayer as he pleaded to a God he hadn't believed in, in years to somehow stop time so he wouldn't have to ever give her up.

They stayed like that, embraced, trading whispered 'I love you's' and soft, tender kisses until slumber finally claimed them both.

tbc

Hope you didn't mind the little... detour before their perfect night. ;) Happy weekend!

hugs

Mari


	18. Chapter 18 Symbolism

I owe answers to your lovely reviews and I will get to them asap, I promise. Thing is muse has have me sequestered writing. She's one very demanding girl and I can't do anything but give in to her when she's in one of her rare moods. In the meantime, I wish to thank all of you who are still with me in this adventure and especially to those who take the time to leave me a review. Your kind words are like fuel for my muse.

Mil gracias to my very sweet friend IBE, I truly couldn't do this without you. Your encouragement, your advices, suggestions and edits are invaluable for me. I love you, darling and I truly give thanks everyday for meeting you. smooches

I had planned on the story to be 20 chapters long, and while I hadn't thought the preparations would take me this long, my muse had another ideas. I hope you enjoy it though!

Summary: Preparations, preparations and more preparations.

_Chapter 18. Symbolism_

He woke up in the middle of the night with a gasp, only to find Buffy nestled against him, one of her hands placed over his un-beating heart, her breath tickling his throat, her scent surrounding him, her body heat warming him to the point he almost felt… alive again.

He hadn't meant to fall asleep, there were too many things he had to finish, get ready before they met again in a few hours. Not that he'd change **this** for anything else in this world. Having the chance to fall asleep with her in his arms, to wake up by her side… This had to be what heaven felt like.

Being in the same room, in the same bed with the woman he loved more than he'd ever believed possible and knowing she loved him back—the same woman who oh so willingly had offered herself to him not once, but twice now— was paradise and hell all wrapped up in one petite luscious package.

Much as he wanted to, he knew he couldn't stay lest he be tempted to take her up on the sweet offer of having her body. They wouldn't have long to wait now. But even this day would seem eternal, dragging on endlessly until the time he'd set came.

Carefully, mindful not to wake her up, Spike extracted himself from her arms and got up from the bed, covering her with the duvet. His gaze softened with love as he watched her, already missing her warmth, her light. She was so beautiful, so precious to him. And she would finally be his… tonight.

After getting dressed, he walked into the bathroom, picked one of the used towels he found inside—which he couldn't resist bringing to his nose to inhale the delicious aroma of her scent—and brought it back to the room to clean the mess left by the glass of milk he'd dropped. He threw the towel in the dirty clothes' hamper and took a note pad and a pen out from the desk propped against the wall.

Sitting directly across from Buffy's bed, he wrote her a note explaining why he couldn't stay and asked her to call Anne as soon as she woke up since the housekeeper had explicit instructions concerning what he'd planned for her today.

A slight noise coming from the bed drew his eyes back to it, holding an unneeded breath while he waited for her next move. Relief coursed through him when Buffy hugged the pillow to her side and exhaled a contented little sigh. She was so bloody adorable.

On a whim, he turned the page on the notepad and started writing, surprised by how easily the words were flowing from his mind onto the paper. Then again, it was in the very same manner drawing or painting her seemed to come to him. She inspired him in every sense, making him want to express that inspiration in every possible way.

Once done, he folded the two pieces of paper and placed them on the pillow next to her and with a whisper of a kiss to her brow, was about to leave when he noticed a little something peaking through the sheets.

A mischievous smirk playing on his lips, he pulled it out, turning it around in his fingers before bringing it up to his nose, inhaling deeply before putting it in the back pocket of his jeans. He hoped she wouldn't mind him taking this little memento to remember her by during the long hours until he saw her again, but even if she did, well… he hadn't been able to resist. After all, it was always best to beg forgiveness than to ask permission. He'd just have to make it up to her.

With one last longing look at her and his head filled with the desire to resume work on his painting, he finally went out the door.

--------

Buffy woke up feeling wonderfully sated and feeling perfectly happy. A feeling which quickly gave way to something completely different when she realized Spike wasn't in bed with her any longer, or even in the room. Dread filled her as she sat up, scanning the room until she finally saw the note lying on the pillow at her side.

Holding her breath and hoping it would shed some light on his whereabouts and the reason why he'd left without waking her first, she unfolded it and read:

_Good morning, Love, _

Although nothing would have given me more pleasure than to watch you wake by my side, there are a few things which need my attention so I can dedicate all my time to you tonight. 

Tonight? Did that mean they'd have their 'perfect night' tonight? _Oh God, oh God, oh God! _She hurriedly went back to reading.

_I took some liberties regarding the preparations for our evening together which I hope you won't mind. So please, as soon as you read this, get in touch with Anne and she'll take care of everything you'll need. _

I'll pick you up in your room at seven. The hours until I see you again will be endless for me.

Eternally yours,

William 

She blinked. _Preparations? Eternally Yours? Could it be…_ Her pulse quickened, her head spinning over what he meant by that, with what she hoped he meant. Could it be he was planning on claiming her tonight? Perhaps that was why he wanted everything to be perfect for them? It made sense. _Perfect sense._

There was another page with the note and she quickly read it, hoping it held more clues as to how their night would play out.

_I'm dying to embrace you  
And feel you melt in my arms  
I'm dying to love you  
And feel your kiss when I wake up  
Pillowed upon your breast  
Until the sun appears in the horizon  
Getting lost in your scent  
Getting lost in your lips  
Which come near me whispering  
Words that make this poor heart beat  
Feeling the fire burn deep inside myself _

I'm dying to know you  
To know what you are thinking  
To open all your doors  
And conquer those storms  
Which want to destroy us  
To lock my eyes with yours  
To sing with you at dawn  
To kiss you until our lips wear out  
And see every day in your face  
How that seed grows  
To create, dream, let everything surge  
Parting from the fear to suffer

I'm dying to explain to you  
What goes on inside my mind  
I'm dying to intrigue you  
And be capable of surprising you  
Feel every day that arrow shoot  
Through my heart whenever I see you  
Who cares what they say?  
Who cares what they think?  
If I'm insane, it's my own thing  
And I turn to look  
The world by my side  
I once again can see the sunlight shine

I'm dying to implore  
Don't go away, my life  
I'm dying to listen to you  
Tell me all the things you want to say  
Should I keep silent and let you leave  
Or keep my hopes up  
Of being capable some day  
Of not hiding the wounds  
That hurt when I think  
That I love you every day even more

Until tonight, my love,

Spike 

She read and re-read the poem, and with each word, each verse she fell more and more in love with Spike. Sighing dreamily, she traced his signature lovingly with the tip of her finger, sure now more than ever he intended to claim her as his mate.

Grabbing the phone from her night table, she called Anne just as Spike requested and was told not to move a muscle before the housekeeper arrived, which she was more than happy to do… until she remembered her state of undress.

In a flurry, she got out of bed, put on her pajamas then started looking everywhere for the undergarments she'd worn the night before. It wasn't an easy task, but she finally found the bra under the bed. Her panties, on the other hand, seemed to have disappeared into thin air.

_Dammit! _

She stripped the sheets from the bed and all but turned the room upside down but **still** couldn't find them. She glanced at the clock on the nightstand then back to the bed, knowing she barely had time to make her room seem as if it hadn't been directly in a hurricane's path before Anne came. And with any luck, if she hadn't been able to find them, the invisi-maids wouldn't either.

She heard a knock just then and with one last bewildered look at her room thought, _how on earth could a pair of panties vanish just like that? _She opened the door to find Anne outside with a serving cart in tow.

"Good morning, dear, I hope you slept well?" the older woman said with a smile, rolling the cart into the room. "I hope you don't mind, but I imagined you might be hungry, what with skipping dinner altogether last night."

"Good morning, Anne." Her eyes almost bulged at the amount of food on it. "And of course I don't mind, but I could've gone downstairs to the kitchen and eaten there."

"No, you couldn't," the woman answered matter-of-factly, shaking her head while she handed Buffy a glass of freshly squeezed orange juice.

"I couldn't?" She frowned, taking a sip from the glass. Since when?

"No, I have express orders from Master William. You're to be pampered today and that includes breakfast in bed."

"Really?" _Hmmm… interesting. _Not that she minded being pampered, because who would? Especially when Spike was behind it but… did it have something to do with his preparations for their evening?

"Yes, my child." She smiled inwardly, knowing the girl **had** to be curious and sure enough, her next question made that fact absolutely clear.

"And what else has he prepared for today… do you know?"

"I know some of it," the housekeeper replied enigmatically. _This is going to be fun, _she mused.

"And…" Buffy left the empty glass on the tray and jumped on the bed, tucking her lower legs underneath herself while grabbing Anne's hand and making her sit by her side.

"And… you'll find out soon enough," she giggled at the blonde's sullen expression.

"But-but… I want to know now." She pouted, making sad puppy eyes at her interlocutor. "Can't you tell me something… anything at all?"

"Other than you're about to be treated to breakfast in bed?" The girl nodded eagerly. "Weeeeell, can you keep a secret?"

"Yes." Buffy nodded again, her eyes brightening with hope and excitement.

"So can I," Anne answered, chuckling at Buffy's expression. "All right, all right. I'll tell you a little something and that's only because I like you…" she lowered her voice to a whisper. "We're going on a little trip you and I."

Buffy blinked, that was so not what she'd expected. "Trip?"

"Yes, we're going to the city."

"What city?"

"Why, London, of course." As if there could be another, _silly girl. _

"I'm sorry, I don't mean to be rude or anything, but… what exactly are we going to do there?"

"It's a surprise."

"Could you be a little more vague?" Buffy rolled her eyes.

"Probably. Want me to try?" Anne beamed at her. She hadn't had this much fun in years.

"No, please don't." Nothing seemed to be going her way today. First Spike had left her alone in her bed and now Anne was making fun of her. And yes, she knew she was acting like a spoilt brat, but she had been in such good mood when she woke up and now…

"Awww, darling, if it's any consolation…" She placed her hand over the young girl's. "I think you'll more than enjoy what Master William has prepared for you. I truly haven't seen him like this in… well, to be honest, ever. And I know I have you to thank for this wonderful change in him. You've brought light into this home, into his life and he only wants to reciprocate a little to that. So be sure, this little trip and everything else he's planned for the rest of the day is only with your pleasure in mind."

Well, what could she say to that? Other than melt at his thoughtfulness and Anne's words that was. She wanted to be that for him, his light, his love, his everything and just knowing Anne thought she had already accomplish that… it warmed her all over.

"Now, how about you answer a question for me," Anne asked.

"Sure."

Looking from left to right before facing the young woman again, she inquired, "What in heaven's name happened to your room?" The girl blushed heavily, looking everywhere but back at her. "Or is this Master William's doing as well?"

Buffy blanched at that, did the woman know Spike spent part of the night with her? No, she couldn't possibly know that… could she? "N-no, of course not. Why would you say that?" she answered quickly, a little too quickly while laughing awkwardly. "It's my fault, I-I lost my… something and well, I was trying to find it. That's all. Nothing else."

"If you say so, my child."

The woman smiled sweetly, a playful twinkle in her eyes which made it perfectly clear she had her own ideas of what might have gone on inside the room.

Knowing there wasn't anything she could say to change Anne's mind, she decided to focus on the food in front if her instead. Much as she'd liked what **had** been on the menu last night, it wasn't enough to properly fill her stomach.

She oooh'ed and aaah'd over the different plates and after sharing breakfast with Anne, Buffy took a quick shower and got ready to go out with the housekeeper, excitedly thinking of the other surprises the day would reveal.

-----------

Buffy's eyes widened when Giles parked the Bentley in front of the imposing entrance to The Mandarin Oriental Hyde Park Hotel. She'd read of the place, visited its online webpage several times dreaming of a day when her finances would be healthy enough for a stay. She'd even tried booking one of its famous Spa Rituals after she decided to visit London to no avail, since they had no reservations available until December.

And now here they were as if suddenly a space was made available just for her. Was this part of Spike's surprise? Because if it was… God the man really knew how to treat a woman! Not that she had any doubts about it before.

"What are we doing here?" she asked Anne, her eyes still set on the magnificent building.

"This is part of your surprise, darling," the housekeeper descended from the car with the Concierge's aid and then ducked her head into the car once again when she noticed Buffy wasn't following her. "Are you coming?"

"What?" Buffy shook her head. "Sure, yes, of course."

The Concierge and Anne shared an amused smile while he held the door open for her, his hand extended to help her out.

"Good morning, Miss Summers. Welcome to The Mandarin Oriental, I do hope you enjoy your stay with us."

Stay with them? And how on earth did he know who she was? She turned towards Anne who just shrugged at her while smiling at the girl's reaction.

She followed Anne into the hotel, even more in awe when she saw the Asian-garbed hostess who was waiting for them inside. With reverence, the raven-haired beauty greeted them before leading them down a series of hallways until they reached the Spa reception.

Once there, the girl brought them each a pair of comfortable slippers in exchange for their shoes and invited them to 'leave all the worries of the external world behind' before explaining what the Soothing Ritual—which was what Mr. Wellington had chosen for them, she informed—consisted of.

Buffy and Anne listened to the girl while exchanging amazed glances between each other. Buffy - because it was hard to believe a man could be **so** attentive and thoughtful as to do something like this just to bring pleasure to the woman he loved. But then again, Spike wasn't just **any** man. _Actually, he's __**more**__ than a man, _Buffy giggled internally when thinking of his demon side. And Anne— because she'd thought she was there solely to keep Buffy company and nothing else; she simply hadn't expected his lovely gift was for both of them.

After being escorted to their respective rooms, they were each treated to a full body salt and oil scrub, which left their skin feeling oh so deliciously soft to the touch. Next came a Balinese Massage designed to soothe and relax; a manicure an pedicure and the grand finale was an intensive facial which, combined with the others, left them feeling like they'd been born again.

Twin sighs of pure bliss were heard as they met again in the reception room where Monica, the same hostess from before, was waiting for them, her arms laden with bags full of products and all kinds of instructions for how they should follow-up when they were home.

"Now, if you would be so kind as to follow me, ladies, I'll show you to your suite."

_Suite? _Buffy mouthed at Anne, who seemed just as puzzled as she was.

Anne thought they were going shopping after this, but it seemed Master William had other ideas.

"Mr. Wellington thought after the Soothing Ritual it would be best if you stayed here and let us bring the rest of your surprise to you, Miss Summers," Monica said as she guided them into the elevator, asking the operator to take them to the fifth floor.

"A-and what would that be?" Perhaps this girl would tell her more than Anne had?

"You'll have to wait and see, I'm really not in liberty of disclosing any information until it's time. Let me assure you though, Miss Summers, we'll do our best so your stay with us is a very pleasant one," the hostess answered, leading them out of the elevator and into a huge, sumptuous passageway until they reached a heavy oak door which she opened after putting the bags on a nearby table. "This is the Hyde Park Suite. After you, ladies." She motioned for Buffy and Anne to enter.

Buffy's eyes almost bulged out of their sockets at the size and beauty of the room. The marble fireplace was the first thing she saw before noticing the spectacular view of Hyde Park from the arched bay windows. She did a double take at the 19th Century prints of the park gracing the walls and then looked outside again to compare. They were practically identical.

"Breathtaking, isn't it?" Monica said, standing by her side.

"Oh yes," Buffy whispered reverently, as if speaking any louder would disrupt the almost magical ambiance created by the room. "Isn't it gorgeous, Anne?"

"Yes, it sure is." William sure did his homework; even she—who'd known him for most of her life—was in awe at everything he'd been capable of arranging for today in order to make Buffy happy.

Buffy was equally impressed and touched by each new surprise revealed to her. Spike's attention to detail, his desire to make this day as perfect for her, for them, as he could made her love for him grow in ways she'd never thought possible. He truly was one of a kind.

There was a knock at the door then and Monica smiled enigmatically at them, before glancing to her wristwatch. "Ah, just in time."

"Let me guess, more surprises?" Buffy asked.

"But of course, darling. Haven't you noticed? William is all about surprises," Anne teased her.

_I'm dying to intrigue you  
And be capable of surprising you… _

Oh yes, he sure is, she sighed dreamily, remembering the words in his poem. 

Buffy snapped out of dreamland when the maitre d' came in with a serving cart full of covered trays, refreshments, tea and desserts which he placed on the table overlooking the park. Behind him, a few more people followed, each carrying a black suitcase with them, emptying their contents onto another table next to a huge mirror. Lastly, a bellhop came in rolling a clothes' rack, preceded by a regal looking girl whom Monica introduced as Cordelia Chase, her personal shopper.

Buffy blinked in shock. She had a personal shopper? And a hairdresser and make-up artist, too, it might seem. It felt surreal to have all these people waiting on her.

"Good afternoon, Miss Summers." Cordelia smiled at her cordially. "I brought some clothes for you to try on and let me tell you, it wasn't an easy task to find some of these. Mr. Wellington gave me very specific instructions of what he had in mind. And now that I meet you," she tilted her head and assessed her critically, "I think he was right. With your coloring you'll look amazing in any of the shades he requested."

Not surprising, _not for a man who's a world-class artist after all,_ Buffy thought.

"Why don't you go look at the dresses while I lay out the other things I brought for you in the bedroom?" Cordelia suggested, already walking towards the bedroom, followed by Monica who decided to help her to give Buffy and Anne some privacy.

Buffy moved towards the rack and began going through the dresses that hung on it. They were all evening gowns, each one more beautiful than the last, but it wasn't until she neared the end, that she found 'the one'. The blood red, floor-length Zac Posen's creation, was breathtaking, its original design and color making it stand out from the rest.

She pulled it out and held it to her chest, seeing her reflection in the mirror. It was perfect! She checked the label and noticed it was exactly her size and Petite, which meant it probably wouldn't have to be altered. Out of habit, she also checked the price tag and her eyes grew big as plates when she read: _£4,895!!! _Uh-oh, she knew it was too good to be true.

As surreptitiously as she could, she showed the tag to Anne, hoping she'd be as dumbfounded over the price as she was. Sadly, the older woman either didn't understand her need to be so discreet or decided she was just being silly, probably both, because the next thing that came out of her mouth—and not precisely in a whisper—was,

"Pish posh, darling. That's nothing more than a drop in the bucket for William and even if it weren't, he'd still insist on you getting it… it is perfect for you. Why don't you go try it on?" When Buffy looked at her doubtfully, Anne sighed, grabbing the dress from the girl's hands and almost dragging her to the bathroom and pushing her inside. "Now change… and before you say anything else, just think of the look on William's face when he sees you in **that** dress. Red is his favorite color, you know?"

It was easier just to follow the older woman's instructions. Buffy wasn't going to win in a battle of wills against her and well, considering how much Spike had already spent on them today, the woman had a point. Plus the dress was gorgeous. The fabric felt divine against her flesh as she zipped it up then turned to observe herself analytically on the mirror. Perhaps it was a little too much for a dinner at home, but who knew what Spike was up to anyway? And, as Anne had said, just the look in William's face when he saw her in it would be worth the almost five thousand pounds and more.

"Are you ready, Buffy?" Anne asked from the other side of the door.

She sighed before stepping out of the bathroom.

Anne was speechless for an instant. The girl was going to knock her boss dead… er, dead**er** with that dress. It hugged Buffy's body like a second skin without being scandalous or tacky, just bringing attention to her natural physical attributes. Oh yes, the dress was just perfect.

"Perfect. Really, dear, you can't go wrong with that dress. William will love it," Anne said, clapping her hands excitedly.

"Oh wow," was suddenly heard coming from the bedroom's door. "That dress was so made for you, Miss Summers. No question about it. Don't you agree, Cordelia?"

"Yes, and I have the perfect complements for it; if you'd be so kind as to step in here?"

"Complements?" Buffy asked.

"Yes, shoes, bags, lingerie…"

_Lingerie? _Buffy perked up, now that's something she'd surely be interested in, she thought as she followed the perky brunette.

With Cordelia's help, Buffy had no trouble picking out the right shoes, purse and lingerie to go with her dress. And after she changed back into her clothes, Monica rushed her to the living room where the rest of her entourage were waiting for her.

She felt like she was caught in a whirlwind, like a thousand hands were working on her all at once. Two people set on doing her hair and the other her makeup. How they could work with such precision and synchronicity was beyond her. She was being tugged in all kinds of directions and they didn't even blink, fully concentrated on what they were doing.

With every minute that went by, she starting to grow increasingly nervous, managing only to eat a few bites here and there of the delicious meal provided, aware that in just a few hours she'd finally be in her love's arms and he'd make her fully his, in every sense of the word.

By the time they were done and she stood in front of the mirror, Buffy almost didn't recognize herself, they'd done such an amazing job. Her eyes searched Anne's and they exchanged a smile before the older woman's eyes dropped to her watch, tapping it to signal Buffy they needed to go.

With Monica and Cordelia's help, they picked up all of their purchases and after being assured the account had already been taken care of, they left the hotel, asking Giles to please hurry or they would never get back to the estate on time.

_--------------_

_Back at the estate… _

Spike did a double take after the last stroke, placing his brush in the container beside the canvas. He was done. His magnum opus was finished. And even he, perfectionist that he was, could see the results were even better than he could've envisioned. Although considering his subject, he should've known.

He took a few steps back, viewing the painting from several angles, tilting his head to make sure nothing had escaped his notice. It was almost perfect… almost because try as he might, he'd never be able to capture her radiance in all its glory.

He put his hands on his hips, his fingers feeling a small lump in his front pocket. Pulling the pair of frilly pink panties out he'd stolen, he smirked while bringing it to his nose. He inhaled deeply, his nostrils filling with the delicious scent still saturating the tiny scrap of clothing and was unable to stop himself from taking a small, tentative lick at the part meant to cover her sex, groaning in pure rapture when her essence burst on his taste buds.

As he tucked them back in his pocket for safe keeping, his eye caught sight of what time it was. Knowing he barely had time to shower, dress and make sure everything was ready in time to pick Buffy up, he hurried out of the room, rolling the easel with the finished painting on it with him back to his bedroom.

----------

Buffy entered her room with barely enough time to throw the bags over the bed, dress in a flurry and freshen her makeup. As a matter of fact, she had just finished getting ready, breathless and more than a little flushed due to her haste when she heard the knock on the door.

She glanced quickly towards the mirror to check her appearance one last time, then opened the door to the breathtaking sight of her man dressed in a tailored tux, a mischievous tugging on his lips and a red silk scarf dangling from his fingers.

tbc

Had to do a lot of research for this chapter, found several online pages which have been so very helpful since I've never been to London or heard of any of these places before. I know you're all waiting to read their perfect night, but I needed to get all these preparations out of the way before, I really hope you don't mind.

Thanks for reading and if you feel inclined to let me know what you thought of the chapter, my muse and I would love to know. ;)

hugs

Mari

ETA: Spike's poem is my translation of the song "Me muero por conocerte" by Alex Ubago and it's his property, I just twisted it a bit to fit what I wanted to say.


	19. Chapter 19 Neo Expressionism

Author's Note: A huge, immense thank you to my amazing readers, The Art of Immortality won Reader's Choice at Spuffy Awards for Most Original Plot, tying with Echoes by the lovely Holly and a Judge's Pick, as well. I'm in awe, since Echoes is one of my favorite stories and well, while I don't think AoI is as good, I thank you all anyway from the bottom of my heart. You made my day!

Again my apologies for not having finished answering your lovely reviews, I will, I promise. I love them all and I thank you from the bottom of my heart for each of them. I'm a bad, bad girl, but perhaps you'll forgive me when I tell you I haven't only finished this chapter, but the next one as well. (bats eyelashes)

Thank you so very much to my lovely IBE, without whom I truly would have given up before this. For her encouragement, telling me it didn't suck when I thought it did and for everything, especially being her sweet self, I dedicate this chapter to her. I truly can't thank you enough, honey. Love you to pieces, my little sister!

_Chapter 19. Neo-Expressionism _

Buffy entered her room with barely enough time to throw the bags over the bed, dress in a flurry and freshen her makeup. As a matter of fact, she had just finished getting ready, breathless and more than a little flushed due to her haste when she heard the knock on the door.

She glanced quickly towards the mirror to check her appearance one last time, and then opened the door to the breathtaking sight of her man dressed in a tailored tux, a mischievous tugging on his lips and a red silk scarf dangling from his fingers. 

Spike almost decided to say to hell with everything he'd planned when he saw her clad in the form-hugging red gown. He was drawn to her, as he'd always been, like a moth to a flame. And bloody hell if she didn't inflame him even more every time he saw her. His eyes all but devoured her as he took a step forward, speechless before the goddess in front of him. She was divine, every delicious inch of her and he couldn't contain his excitement at knowing it wouldn't be long until she was his, all his… body, heart and soul.

She felt more than a little dazed by the way he looked tonight. And it wasn't that she hadn't seen him in a tux before, but the combination of white dress shirt and coat with black trousers, vest and bow tie made him look absolutely edible in a GQ kind of way. Add to that the slightly mussed white-blond hair which she was just dying to run her fingers through, the delicious whiff of his cologne blending with the aroma that was so uniquely him and she was actually surprised her knees were still holding her upright.

Mentally shaking herself out of her haze, she glanced from him to the scarf and back before raising an inquisitive eyebrow. "Don't tell me… more surprises?"

Instead of answering, he neared her, a predatory gleam in his eyes as he allowed the scarf to caress her right hand, trailing up her arm, shoulders and neck as he slowly walked behind her.

She couldn't suppress the shivers running down her back, holding her breath as she waited for his next move.

He lowered his mouth to her ear and murmured huskily, "Do you trust me?"

_With my life,_ she wanted to answer were she able to speak at all, as it was she barely managed an, "Uh-huh." Her body sagged against his, wishing he'd turn her around and kiss her even more breathless than she was right now. It'd been far too long since last night.

He must have thought the same thing. Either that or he was really, **really** pleased with her answer, succinct as it'd been, because before she could even take another breath, he had already twisted her in his arms and captured her lips with his.

His hands came up to cup her cheeks while he plundered her mouth passionately, his tongue entwining with hers, cajoling, persuading, distracting her from what he was planning to do with the silken piece of cloth.

She tasted sweet, oh so delectably sweet as she responded to him, giving all of herself in that one kiss. He could feel his control slipping even faster than on any of their other previous meetings. Perhaps it was the knowledge it wouldn't be too long now until they were one, perhaps it was because it was her. But whatever it was, he simply didn't want to relinquish this feeling or her lips… ever.

He had to, though. At least for now.

With some difficulty, he tore himself from the magnetic pull of her mouth, quickly turned her around and covered her eyes with the scarf before deciding to give in to the temptation of taking her right here, **right** now. And while the thought wasn't without merit, he was too set on the idea of a perfect night to forsake it when it was about to come to fruition.

She pouted when she realized what he'd done and tried to take the scarf off, but he pulled her hands down, taking them into his. "Hey, that's so not fair!"

"All's fair in love and war, darlin'," he said, stealing a kiss from her pouting lips.

"Says the man who blindfolded me," she scoffed, still trying to get her hands free.

"If you're a good girl, I might let you blindfold me later," he purred in her ear.

"Promises, promises." She squirmed a little, her panties were already uncomfortably wet and this was only the beginning. God, how was she going to manage until **he** decided it was time?

He chuckled, his voice dropping an octave before whispering, "Oh, I can make you all sort of promises, love, and make good on every last one of them before the night is over." He brought her hands up and kissed each of her knuckles. "But I think we should move this little tête-à-tête to another place."

"Another place? Where?"

"Ah, tha's for me to know and for you to discover when the time is **just** right."

She could practically hear his smirk. "Cryptic much?"

"A tad yeah, but you love it, don' you, darlin'?" He turned her around again, pressing his body against her back, delighting at her sudden intake of air. He could smell the effect all this talk and his nearness were having on her and _bloody hell!_ How was he supposed to carry on with the rest of his plan with as hard as she had him already? For as much as he wished this night were eternal, would last forever, he also desired time to go by quickly so he could find himself buried deep inside her body, deep enough to touch her heart, her soul, until they were one.

_Oh yes, I sure do,_ she thought, nodding as she almost melted into him. Anything he wanted, needed, desired… that's what she wanted as well. Being his, becoming one with him, that's all she would ask for in return.

Taking her hands in his once more, he led her out of the room. He'd toyed with the idea of taking her through several hallways, up and down the stairs before going to their final destination, but he simply didn't want to delay this any longer than necessary. So, decidedly, he steered her from one wing to another in the most direct path he could find, stopping only to open the door and guide her inside.

She smelt the faint aroma of oil paint and turpentine and wondered if he'd taken her to his studio again. Although, she also picked up on the faint scent of incense and something else she couldn't quite put her finger on.

They didn't stay here though. He immediately directed her past what felt like heavy curtains as it brushed her shoulder and into what she imagined could only be outdoors, like a terrace. The night breeze caressed her skin as soon as they stopped and she was thankful they were still in the middle of the summer or she would've needed a coat and that would've been a waste. To cover the gorgeous dress he'd bought for her would've been something akin to sin, especially if it earned her some of those hungry looks he'd treated her to before blindfolding her.

Buffy held her breath when she felt him behind her again, this time removing the silky cloth from her face. As she opened her eyes, she nearly gasped to find a lovely table set for two, a champagne bottle in an ice bucket to the side, soft music coming from somewhere nearby that only added to the romantic ambiance he'd created. When she turned to look at him, he was holding a delicate white flower in his hand.

"You approve, milady?"

"Oh yes, it's all so… so gorgeous. I love it, thank you." She took the flower he offered and brought it to her nose. "This flower is so lovely. What is it?"

"A Monja Blanca, a rare orchid which only grows in the northern mountains of Guatemala. And one of the reasons for the delay, I had it shipped 'specially for you."

She smiled in awe. Leave it to him to go to so much trouble to make this night special for her. Then again, that was one of the reasons she'd fallen head over heels for him in such short time.

Her nerves returned with a vengeance after he politely seated her. He'd really gone out of his way so that tonight would be perfect and that could only mean one thing… she'd been correct in her assumption he'd be claiming her later. And she could hardly wait for the moment when he would tell her about it.

Spike handed her a glass flute filled with champagne, slightly intrigued over the way her hand trembled as she took it and the sudden increase in her heart rate. She was edgy, but other than imagining it was over what would happen later, when he finally made love to her, he couldn't think of any other reason for her anxiety.

They made small talk throughout dinner during which she hardly ate a thing, merely shoving the food from one side of the plate to the other.

"Is it not to your likin'?" he inquired.

"What?" He looked pointedly at her plate and she blushed, smiling embarrassedly at being caught. "No, it's not that. It's delicious. Everything is, I promise. It's just—" Should she tell him? God knew she couldn't keep waiting until he did.

"Tell me, love."

He placed his hand over his, his eyes so full of love as they locked with hers that it gave her the courage she needed to say what she wanted.

"I-I found a book while I was exploring your house… I didn't mean to," she rushed to clarify.

His curiosity was piqued. What could she have found that made her so adorably flustered?

"I just… there was this chess set, in the library. You know the one, don't you?" He nodded encouragingly, a soft smile tugging at his lips. "A-and I was thinking it'd be wonderful to learn to play and then I found this book…"

"Book?" he compelled her to elaborate, his mind already going through the titles in his library, trying to think which one could've garnered this type of reaction from her but without much success.

"Well… more like a book I found behind it. A-a book about… uhmm, vampires."

If he could've paled further, he would've. As it was, he was too dumbfounded to do anything but stare at her and listen.

"I know you probably wanted to tell me yourself, but," she looked at him from beneath lowered eyelashes, trying to gauge his reaction to her bit of news. He was **so** quiet; but then again, he was probably surprised she found out about claims before he had a chance to tell her. "I read of a way where vampires and humans can mate with each other, be together for all eternity. And I just wanted to let you know, I wouldn't be opposed to the idea." She smiled hopefully at him, her love for him shining brightly in her eyes. The certainty she held that this was what they both wanted making her feel like she was in heaven already as she waited for his response.

He couldn't give credit to his ears, he simply couldn't… what was she saying, that she wanted him to **claim** her? It was his sweetest dream and worst nightmare all wrapped into one.

"No!" he stated flatly, hating to have to say that to her. But he couldn't concede, not in this matter. She didn't know what she was asking, couldn't possibly understand.

How could someone experience absolute and perfect bliss one second only to have it turn into a bottomless abyss of despair the next?

Quite easily it might seem.

It took one word, just one… 'no', which coupled with the horrified expression in his eyes was more than enough for her to realize it wasn't going to happen, had never even crossed his mind. All she'd dreamt of, all she'd felt… had been a lie. He never meant to claim her or even keep her around for longer than the duration of her vacation.

She was frozen, completely baffled by his response. She'd been so naïve dreaming of an ever after with him, thinking that a man like him wanted her as she wanted him. She should've known better, he never promised her anything, never said anything other than he was in love with her and wanted to give her a perfect night. The rest had been all her doing, misconstruing his actions, mistaking his words for something they weren't… it was all in her head.

_Poor, innocent, stupid little Buffy. Haven't you learned by now when things seem too good to be true, they usually are? _

She closed her eyes trying to ward off the pain. She didn't want him to see how heartbroken she was, how hurt, but she wasn't sure how she'd manage. She wasn't about to cry in front of him, though, in front of anyone. She wasn't going to ask him for a reason why or beg him to reconsider or even worse, stay here for him to witness her meltdown, she simply couldn't. The wound was too deep, too fresh. And if there was anything she still had left in the midst of this awful mess was her pride.

"I… Buffy, I just—" he started. "Please, understand."

Oh, she did. She truly did, more than she wanted to, more than she needed to. He might love her, but he didn't want forever with her. He didn't love her enough for that. She wasn't enough for him. "I-I," her voice cracked and she swallowed past her tears, moving her chair back as she stood up. "You don't need to say anything else. I understand all too well."

"Where are you going?"

"I'm sorry… I just… need to be alone right now. I'm sure you can…" What? Understand? She wanted to laugh bitterly at that. He'd never comprehend just how much he'd hurt her. And even if he did, it wouldn't change a thing. They **weren't** meant to be, and she needed to leave before she began bawling in front of him like a baby.

She hadn't taken more than two steps toward the French doors when he appeared in front of her, blocking her exit.

"Please, Spike, can we not do this now?" _Or ever,_ she added to herself.

"You can't go like this. I… I didn't say no because I don't love you or because I don't want it, it's just too dangerous for you. You read what could happen in the book you found, it's too risky."

"Why don't you just say it, you DON'T love me enough."

"I love you TOO bloody much, 's why I have to say no, why we can't…" he trailed off, frustrated that she didn't recognize the danger in asking for such a thing.

"True love is about taking risks, Spike. I'm willing, you aren't and that's that. There's nothing else to talk about, it's all pretty clear to me."

He sighed, why did she have to be so difficult? Couldn't she see he was only saying no for her sake, for her safety? "I can't risk you," he said softly. "You're too precious to me."

"So you keep saying, and yet…" she took a deep breath, steeling herself for what she needed to say. "And yet you're willing to let me go. Willing to make love to me then toss me aside when my vacation is over… with complete disregard of my feelings for you." She looked down at the floor, whispering more to herself when she added, "You were just going to use me."

He was taken aback, never even thought for a second she'd take it like that. "I never… I wasn't—"

"What… thinking? Yeah, I can see that. You simply don't care, Spike. **You** decided for the two of us and never, not even once, thought about what it would do to me. How it would kill me to know I wasn't enough for you, to know I never will be."

"Tha's not—"

"What did you expect to happen, Spike? That I should be grateful you deigned giving me a few days of your time then go my merry way? To never think of you again? Perhaps you thought my love for you was as disposable as yours seems to be? Well, sorry but things don't work that way. I have feelings for you, deep abiding feelings which I can't change or turn off as if it were a faucet."

"NO! Tha's not it at all. Don' you get it? You're more than 'nough for me, you're all I bloody care about, all I think about."

"Really? Because you sure have a funny way of showing it."

"Listen to me," he all but growled, his patience giving way to desperation. "I'm doing this for your own good, your own **safety**. Buffy…I haven't fed from a human in decades, I could easily lose control and you don't know—"

"And neither do you. I don't need you… or anyone else for that matter, doing anything for my own good. I'm perfectly capable of making my own decisions."

"Capable as you were of fending off that git?" he regretted saying the words as soon as they left his mouth, but God, she made him so… so… _Arghh!_

She blanched at that. "Th-that was different and you know it. It was something beyond my control and has **nothing** to do with what we're discussing now."

"Like hell it doesn't!"

"It doesn't, don't you see?" She shook her head sadly, knowing he didn't. "No, you don't," she answered her own question. "You're so wrapped up in your little world, you can't see how much your actions affect others, me. You only see what YOU want to see; only understand what YOU want to understand. You think saying you love me is enough? Well, it isn't. It never will be. I want all of you… or nothing at all. I thought I made that clear."

He grabbed her by her shoulders then, his fingers digging into her flesh, his eyes flickering from gold to blue and back again as he fought to retain some semblance of control. "You don't know what you're asking of me, you bloody bint. You have no idea of the forces you'd be messing with," he said in a low, threatening manner.

"As a matter of fact, Spike, I do know." She brought her hands up to his chest and with all her might pushed him away, somehow—be it by surprise or from the need to get away from him once and for all, to leave and lick her wounds in private—making him stumble backwards. "Love is the only force driving me here. My love. Which I see now will never be reciprocated in equal measure as I would've wished."

"You're misinterpretin' me on purpose!" He ran a shaky hand over his face and hair.

"Oh please, give me a break, there's nothing to misinterpret here. I all but asked you to claim me and you said no. I'm not asking you to reconsider, I never would. Now, if you'll excuse me…" She tried to pass by him, but he blocked her way again by trying to put his arms around her. He had to make her understand somehow.

"What? Wasn't it enough to stomp on my offer, on my heart, now you have to manhandle me, too?" she hugged herself, taking a step back from him.

Manhandle her? He blinked, focusing for the first time on the red imprints his fingers left on her flesh. God, how could he do that to her?

"Chris', Buffy, love, I'm sorry, I never meant…"

"No, you never did, that's the problem, isn't it?" Taking advantage of how baffled he was, she moved the heavy curtains out of her way and walked away from him. "Good bye, William."

The tears she'd been trying to hold back almost fell when she saw the rest of his surprise as she stepped into his room. Her heart breaking all over again as she noticed the painting of herself in the middle of the room, the rose petals scattered across the bed, the soft glow from dozens of candles illuminating the room. If only he… but no, it wouldn't do to think about what never would be.

She held her head high even as she felt his eyes following her every move until she left his room for the hallway, never once turning back to look at him.

Buffy didn't know how she got to the kitchen. She was simply trying her best not to give in to the overwhelming need to cry, to scream against the injustice of it all. There'd be time enough for that once she was alone, away from this place, away from anything that reminded her of him, of Spike.

The Giles looked up in surprise at finding Buffy in the doorway, looking distraught.

"Buffy?" Anne exchanged a worried look with her husband. The last thing either of them expected was to see the young woman until the next morning… at the very least.

"I… Mr. Giles, could you drive me to London? Please?"

"Is something wrong, child?" Anne asked, noticing how the young woman's bottom lip was trembling.

"No, nothing is wrong, Anne. Don't worry. Could you, Mr. Giles?"

"Why, yes, of course, Miss Buffy. In how long would you like to leave?"

"Immediately."

tbc

Before I leave to hide in a super-secret location, I want to tell you next chapter is already written so you won't have to wait too long until it's posted and to keep in mind that this is a Spuffy story and I'm a happy endings kind of gal, not that you could know it, since this is just the second story I'll be finishing but… I promise you everything should be resolved… eventually. weg


	20. Chapter 20 Post NeoExpressionism

Author's Note: I'm truly in awe at the response over the chapter, thank you so very much to each and every one of you. I really didn't expect you to be so understanding and passionate on your responses (hence the hiding), I should've, I know, you all have been nothing but patient and nice to me from the start. I know I've teased you quite a bit with the perfect night issue, and it is coming on Chapter 21, which I'm already writing and hope to post by next week. crosses fingers After that one, I think just one more chapter and this puppy will be done. sniffs So no more evil cliffhangers. (pouts) I love my cliffhangers.

On other news, go me! I finally finished answering reviews. I know, I know, it was time already that I got to those. (giggles)

As always, mil gracias to my hermanita, IBE, for being her sweet self and helping me so much with this chapter. Be it correcting my boo-boo's, offering awesome and insightful advice, keeping my muse in line, encouraging me and trying to convince me to write instead of playing, she's truly one in a kind and I can't thank her enough for everything she does for me. I love you, cariño! smooches

While I was writing last chapter and this one I was listening to a song by RBD, called Inalcanzable (Unreachable). While I generally don't care for the group, the lyrics and the melody captured me. I posted the lyrics and my translation to English at the end of the chapter and you can listen/download it here: www (dot) box (dot) net (slash) shared (slash) 3yctxld4oo; in case you're interested.

_Chapter 20. Post Neo-Expressionism _

"Why, yes, of course, Miss Buffy. In how long would you like to leave?" 

"Immediately. Or well, in the time it'll take me to pack my things."

"Yes, Miss Buffy, I'll bring the car to the main entrance and then bring your suitcases down. Is that alright?"

"Perfect, thank you." She tried to smile, she really, really did. But even she could tell it looked forced at best.

"Do you need some help packing?" Anne asked solicitously, after Giles left. She didn't like this… not one bit. What could have happened that Buffy needed to leave for London so fast and with her luggage in tow? It had something to do with Master William, of that she was sure. But what? What could he have said or done to change things so drastically between them?

"No, I can manage on my own, don't worry, Anne." The last thing she needed was to explain why she was leaving to the housekeeper. Plus the effort of holding herself together proved more difficult with each passing moment and she desperately wanted a few minutes alone to gather her bearings. "Thank you, though, for everything. Really, you've been wonderful to me and I…" she inhaled deeply, the back of her eyes prickling with unshed tears. "Thank you."

She didn't dare hug the older woman or do anything else for fear she'd end up crying in her arms, so with a shaky smile, she turned on her heel and exited the room.

Anne was perplexed, to say the least. After last night when William revealed some of the surprises he'd planned for Buffy and today, witnessing the rest, she'd been sure everything was perfect between them. Sure he'd finally found his match, the one woman in all the world who was perfect for him in every way. And now, after seeing Buffy like this… she simply didn't know what to think anymore. It was pretty obvious the girl was in distress because of him; otherwise she wouldn't have wanted to put distance between them. But why? What had happened between them that she had to flee from him in such haste?

The only one who could answer those questions was William himself and answer he would, stubborn vamp that he was. She'd make sure of it.

------

Buffy barely managed to get to her room without breaking down on the way, but knew she couldn't give in to the pain was almost tearing her in half, not yet, not until she was as far away from this house—from Spike—as she could get. Mechanically, she took the two suitcases out from the closet and threw her clothes and toiletries in, completely uncaring of the disarray, of anything other than getting ready as fast as she could.

She scanned the room, closing her eyes after they landed on the painting propped over the desk. Much as she loved it, she couldn't take it with her; it would be a constant reminder of Spike, of what couldn't be, of what she could never have.

Grabbing a notepad off the desk, she scribbled a message for Spike, a single tear running down her cheek to land on the paper. It was so hard to let go of all her dreams, to leave him like this, but there was nothing else she **could** do. She couldn't stay knowing he didn't love her like she loved him. She'd meant what she said… she wanted all of him or nothing at all.

Buffy left everything he gave her behind, everything except the dress she wore tonight. She was in too much of a rush to leave to bother changing. Not that she thought Spike would try to talk to her again; she just needed to put distance between them and the sooner the better.

She heard a knock on the door and hoping it was Giles and not Anne or worse, Spike, she opened it.

"Are you ready, Miss Summers?" Giles asked, a kind smile in his face.

"Yes, I am." With one last longing look at the painting, at the room where she'd experienced so many things with Spike, she put her coat on over the dress, took her purse and preceded him towards the manor's main entrance.

------------

Buffy's words came back to haunt him as he stared at the empty space she occupied just a moment ago.

_"…you're willing to let me go. Willing to make love to me then toss me aside when my vacation is over… with complete disregard of my feelings for you… You were just going to use me… You're so wrapped up in your little world, you can't see how much your actions affect others, me…"_

No, no, NO! He pounded his fist on the table, glasses and plates rattling with the force of the blow. That was never his intention. Why couldn't she see that? He tried explaining. _Tried… and failed,_ a little voiced reminded him. But what if she was right? He'd been selfish in his reasoning, selfish in wanting to have her even if afterwards he'd known he was going to give her up he realized now, but now was too late. **He** never gave any forethought… never considered how she might feel after this was over. Not that finally being aware he'd royally screwed up could change that now. Nothing could.

He'd known right from the start nothing permanent could come of this, nothing but the memories he would carry with him. She hadn't. She was young, younger even than he'd been when turned, and innocent, untainted by the darkness that permeated everything around him. He told her he loved her, it was a given for her it meant he wanted to spend the rest of his life with her. He should have known better.

_"I want all of you… or nothing at all."_

Didn't she know he wanted that as well?! He did, more than anything in this world, but it couldn't be. He couldn't allow it to be, he preferred losing her, losing her love than compromising her life, her safety. Which is why he'd come up with this perfect plan. _Perfect plan, yeah right!_ he snorted derisively. Christ, why did he think this could ever work? He didn't deserve her, he truly didn't.

_"My love. Which I see now will never be reciprocated in equal measure as I would've wished."_

If only she realized how much he loved her. Eternally, faithfully, with every fiber of his being. He'd be her willing slave for the rest of her life, for what was left of his. He loved her enough to give her up, which had to be the hardest thing he'd ever done. Harder even than killing Drusilla, his Sire, demented as she'd been.

_"Good bye, William."_

He'd lost her, he truly had. Infinite sadness gave way to rage. Rage over his inability to say to hell with the consequences and claim her like she wanted, like **he** wanted. Rage over being a demon, a lowly creature who didn't deserve to touch the sun, to touch her.

His demon bellowed to be let out from his prison inside the man, screamed at him to go find his mate, claim her as his. While in the end he'd managed to subdue it, in his heart he knew he'd just made the worst mistake of his unlife. One which cost him what he valued, cherished, loved more than all the riches he possessed… Buffy. And there was no one to blame but himself.

With an angry swipe of his arm he shoved everything from the table onto the floor, starting when he heard a voice from the French doors entrance.

----------

Buffy wasn't sure what she would do once they got to London. Probably head to The Mandeville again and hope they had a free room then change her reservations for the next available flight back to the States. She didn't care when it was; her only concern was getting away from everything that reminded her of Spike, including England itself. Logically she knew she couldn't run away from her memories, from her heart, but logic took a back seat now to sheer despair.

She'd been inside the car for a while now, waiting for Giles to take his place behind the wheel. What could be taking him so long? She only had two suitcases, for God's sakes! Unless… she got out of the car to find Giles leaning against the trunk, smoking a cigarette as if he didn't have a care in the world. Until he saw her, then he straightened himself, throwing the cigarette to the ground and at least had the good grace to look embarrassed at being caught.

"What are you doing?" she asked, her hands on her hips.

"I-you… nothing, just well, you see… smoking?"

"I can see that, and shouldn't you be, say… driving instead?"

"It's just… wouldn't you prefer going to London in the morning? It's late already and—"

"No, I would very much prefer going now… and if you're not willing to take me, don't worry, I'll just walk there myself."

He paled at that. Even if Anne had told him to stall Miss Buffy until she had a chance to talk with their headstrong boss, he realized the girl was deadly serious and would do just that if he didn't relent. And if she did and something happened to her, Anne would be the least of his worries.

"Alright then. Climb in then, Miss Summers," he opened the door, mumbling to himself about willful chits who didn't allow him to do his job as he should.

------------

Anne entered Spike's room just in time to see him brush everything off the table to crash on the floor in one angry sweep of his hand. _Uh-oh._ This was **much** worse than she anticipated. Not that she'd back out now that she was here, though. Far from it.

"What did you do to her?"

Spike started when he heard Anne's question. He'd been so deeply immersed in his misery, in his anger against himself he hadn't even noticed the woman standing there. "I don't know what you mean. Leave me alone," he all but growled.

"No, I won't. Any other time I might obey, leave you alone to wallow in self-pity and the consequences of your actions. Now, however, I think that somehow, you've just made the worst decision of your life. Now tell me… what did you do to Buffy?"

"Nothin', I did nothin'!" Yes, he did nothing, except throw her love back in her face.

"U-huh, so she was crying her eyes out because you did nothing?"

"She was cryin'?" He never meant to hurt her, but there was nothing he could do about it now. He couldn't give in to what she desired, there was too much at stake.

"Yes, she was. Now tell me, what happened between you two?" Anne insisted.

"Nothin'," _Everythin'. She couldn't see, couldn't understand why I couldn't do what she asked of me._ "I told you already. She'll get over it eventually," he sighed. "She'll forget me and continue on with her life. It's for the best… for her own good."

"God, do you honestly believe the load of crap that just came out of your mouth?" she asked, exasperated. "How can you believe that girl would forget you? Even a blind man could see she loves you, why can't you?"

"I know she loves me."

"Then why are you pushing her away, don't you love her as well?" She held a finger up before he could answer. "And before you try to say you don't, just remember I know you better than anyone else."

"I wasn't goin' to deny it. I love her, which is exactly why I had to let her go."

"Oh yes, because it makes perfect sense **not** to stay together if you love each other." She rolled her eyes.

"You don't understand," he repeated.

"That's where you're wrong, lad. I understand more than you can imagine."

"Yeah? Why don't you enlighten me then?"

"You're scared…"

"And you're off your bird. 'M a master vampire, 'm scared of nothin'."

"Ah, so you're not scared of ruining the best thing that's ever happened to you? Oh wait, you already did that."

"It's not that… she… I can't give her what she wants."

"And what does she want?"

_Me._ "What I can't give her."

God, the man was infuriating! Why couldn't he spell it all out once and for all? At the rate they were going, the girl would be back in the States before she discovered what went wrong between them. "Good Lord, William, spit it out already! What is it that you can't give her?"

"Me. She wanted me, alright!" He cracked his neck, tension pouring off him in waves. "She wanted me to claim her, make her mine for all eternity!"

She frowned confusedly but didn't relent. "And?"

"I can't do it. There are too many bloody things that could go wrong, don't you see? I can't risk it."

"I see. So I take it you told her no, then?" He nodded. "Hmmm, so a girl, a woman you love and loves you back wants to spend eternity with you and you told her no? Why on earth would you do that? Are you insane?"

"You know what could happen to her if I claimed her and somethin' goes wrong?"

"No, but I imagine you're about to tell me anyway," she responded.

"She can die or get turned in the process. I couldn't live knowin' I've killed her or worse, subjected her to a life without light."

"Uh-huh, and can you live knowing what you might have lost, William?"

"She can do better than me," he deflected the question. Should've bloody figured Anne wouldn't understand either.

"Better than you?" She raised an eyebrow in disbelief.

"I can't give her what she needs, what she deserves. She deserves better than the likes of me, she deserves everythin' I can't give her. Children, sunlight, a normal life."

"Have you asked her if that's what she truly wants, William? Or did you decide for her?"

"I-I… it's for the best." They were the same words Buffy had said, making him feel worse.

"You keep saying that, but who are you trying to convince… me or yourself?" she inquired.

"If it makes you feel better I'll talk to her later. Try to make her see—" At this point, he was willing to do just about anything so Anne would leave him alone.

"Later will be too late, hell… even if you went right now it's already too late."

Trepidation immediately filled him at her words. "What do you mean?"

"She asked Rupert to drive her to the city shortly before I came looking for you."

"And you couldn't have said that first?" She shrugged nonchalantly. "Anyway… perhaps it's for the best."

"Yes, I think I have to agree with you on that one. She deserves better than a coward."

"'M not a coward!" he roared.

"Perhaps not, but are you willing to spend the rest of your life, ETERNITY wondering what if? What if she was the one you're meant to be with… and you let her go. What if the claim worked? What if you're giving up a life full of light, of laughter, of love because you're afraid of something which may not even happen? How happy will you be then, William, hmmm?"

What if Anne was right? He already knew Buffy was 'the one' for him, perfect for him in every way, the one he'd been waiting for what seemed like forever… and what had he done when she offered to spend that eternity with him? He'd thrown her offer back in her face like a heartless git because he was scared shitless he wouldn't be able to completely control his demon when the time came. And while that was still valid… he was no fledging who couldn't tame his baser instincts, he was a master vampire, one who'd spent over a century learning all about controlling his demon.

She'd been willing to risk everything for him, and he ruined it for her, for them. Buffy was correct, Anne, too. What right did he have to choose for her? _None at all,_ he thought sadly, and now if he didn't hurry, he might lose his one chance at true happiness.

No, _I won't,_ he thought as he ran towards Buffy's room. He'd move heaven and earth if need be, do whatever it took until she forgave him.

Bursting through the door, he wanted to weep upon finding the room was empty, _almost empty._ His eyes settled on the bags spread over the bed, the painting he'd given her, and finally on the note beside it, simply labeled: Spike.

He dreaded opening it but what choice did he have? What was written inside tugged at his heartstrings, finally realizing how deeply he'd wounded her.

_I'm sorry I wasn't enough. Sorry I couldn't give you the only thing you wanted from me, but I guess that perfect night you promised wasn't in the cards for us. Some things just aren't meant to be and I'll have to learn to live with the knowledge this was one of them. _

I'll never forget you.

Love always, Buffy 

His hand crumpled the paper, letting it fall to the floor before he left the room in a hurry. He had a girl to catch.

------------

Giles finally started the Bentley after checking all systems and mirrors at least thrice. _What is this… an airplane or a car?_ she wanted to scream at him. The older man was really testing her barely-hanging-by-a-tinier-than-tiny-thread patience. And it didn't get any better when he put the car in motion… if going five miles per hour could even be called 'in motion'.

She sighed desolately, reclining her forehead on the window, staring unseeingly into the darkness. Determined not to break until she was alone even if she so wanted to give in to the pain, yell, cry, rave until there were no more words, no more tears, no more… nothing. Until she was numb, until she didn't care anymore.

She tried to imagine herself in his position, she truly did, but the intent was lost behind all the love she held for him. An impossible love doomed right from the start.

An unattainable dream, that's what it was from the moment they met. A fantasy which evaporated like mist under the morning's sun as soon as she tried to make it more than it really was… as soon as she tried to make it real. She didn't realize she was here to live in the road of his loneliness but for a brief moment, be nothing more than a temporary ray of light to illuminate his somber existence, remind him of what it meant to be human. And yet for someone who'd been around for as long as he had, he seemed to know nothing of the heart's inner workings.

He said it was for her own safety, that he loved her too much to give her what she wanted. She shook her head, letting out a tiny, sardonic chuckle at that. If only he understood there would never be anyone else for her but him; that no one would ever love him as much as she did, so immeasurably, so absolutely that she would die for him just as surely as she would die **without** him… She felt her soul still burning from the fire of his rejection, that one simple world which escaped his lips icily… 'no'. He could never imagine how much that one word had hurt her, crushed her. Did he even care?

It felt like a slow death to pine for someone who didn't want her the way she wanted him, didn't believe in the happiness that could be found if only he'd take hold of it. And no matter how hard she'd tried, he remained unreachable, like a distant planet, remote, unapproachable, content to stay within its orbit.

Giles drove as slowly as he could manage, at least the girl had stopped complaining and threatening to go to London on foot, allowing him to drive—or rather try to delay the inevitable—in peace.

He stole a few worried glances at Buffy, her sadness was so palpable, so poignant; he almost wished he could give her what she wanted… distance. But with any luck, she wouldn't want that anymore once his boss came to his senses or his darling wife beat some into him, whichever came first. As it was, there was little he could do to postpone their departure any longer.

Seemingly out of nowhere, a dark figure stepped in front of the car's path, making him squeal like a little girl and press the gas pedal instead of the brakes at its sudden appearance.

When Spike came out of the manor, he noticed the Bentley had almost reached the main gate. In a burst of preternatural speed he rushed to catch up with it before they went through and stood directly in front of it, sure Giles would stop as soon as he saw him. What he didn't count on was the momentum the car gained instead, his strength the only thing preventing him from being run over.

Buffy's head bumped into the glass when they crashed into… something, momentarily dazing her. She shook her head to clear it as the car came to a halt, moving to the center of the backseat to ask Giles how on earth he'd bumped into anything at the laughable 'speed' he was driving, only to see exactly what—or more accurately who—had caused the collision.

Spike winced a little at the dent his hands left on the front of the car before advancing towards the back door, his eyes trained on her, on Buffy.

Shaking herself out of her stupor at seeing Spike coming after her, she gave a yelp of no and rushed to lock her door, only to see the lock kept unlocking after each of her attempts.

An amused chuckle brought her attention to the front, where Giles kept pressing the button to keep unlocking the doors.

"Giles! Stop that this instant!"

"What? I don't want him to ruin the car more than he already has."

"Arghh! I swear if you don't sto—"

The sound of metal being ripped apart and a sudden breeze, made her look to the right to find the door torn off its hinges and in Spike's hands before he threw it to the side of the road.

"Oh dear, there's goes preventing any more damage," Giles whined.

"'Lo cutie," he said, smiling at her and then sitting beside her in the car, hoping against hope that might earn him a smile in return.

**SLAP!!! **

_Bloody hell!_ Who knew a girl so tiny could pack a smack like that! "I suppose I deserve that," he said, touching his tender cheek and eyeing her warily.

She must have thought the same thing he did, because immediately after he spoke, she tried slapping him again, but this time he was ready and caught her hand before it made contact with his burning cheek. Not that it changed anything; she just glared at him, pulled her hand from his and moved as far away from him on the seat as she possibly could. _Okay then, time for explanations,_ he sighed, passing his hand over the back of his neck. "Buffy, sweetheart, just listen to me…"

"Don't you dare call me that," she gritted out. "I'm not your sweetheart… I'm not your **any**thing."

"Lov-Buffy," he amended at her pointed look. "I know I messed up, but please, please just hear me out."

He couldn't pretend to come here with those bluer than blue eyes and contrite air, expecting everything that happened in his room to just vanish, could he? Because if he did, he was in for one hell of a surprise, she mused.

Taking her silence for acceptance, he began, "I reacted badly, I should've never say what I said, do what I did. You just took me by surprise and…"

"And what?" she asked, venom dripping in her voice. "And I suppose now you expect me to fall in your arms and thank you for saying that?" She shook her head, laughing humorlessly. "God, you're unbelievable! Really, Spike, you didn't just react badly, you-you didn't even give me a chance; you flat out refused my offer, you threw my love back at me without a second thought! How did you expect me to act after that? You want me to stay so you can do it again? Is that it?"

"'M not doin' it again…" he responded. "I-I… Chris', woman, I love you. More than you could ever imagine. I want us to—"

"Yeah, yeah, heard all that before. Didn't stop you from hurting me, did it?"

"Would you shut that bloody gob of yours for a second and just listen to me?! I want to apologize to—"

"Oh yes, I can see how sorry you are, Spike," she huffed before crossing her arms in front of her chest and turning her head to the other side.

"Bloody hell, woman! What does it take?" He inhaled deeply, counting to ten in his head as he tried to calm down and arm himself with patience. "Buffy?" Nothing! She didn't even turn to look at him. _Perhaps…_ he shrugged; it was worth a shot at the very least.

Wincing at the thought of having to force himself on her, but knowing she left him with no other option… or at least any he could think of at the moment, he pulled her onto his lap and kissed her senseless, taking advantage of her outraged gasp to invade her mouth with his greedy tongue.

She fought him like a tigress, she truly did, and boy if that didn't turn him on even more! She pounded on his chest, struggled against him while moving her head from side to side trying to dislodge his mouth from hers.

He smiled against her lips, delighting in her fiery response even if it was to escape him, exhilarated at having her in his arms again. One of his hands crept from her back to thread in her hair, tilting her head to plunder her mouth from another angle, devouring her, coaxing her to give up… and give in.

There was only so much she could take, could resist, especially with him kissing her like that, like he wanted to possess her wholly with just one deep, long kiss. And she wanted to give in to his desire, to hers, **so** much it physically hurt. She started kissing him back, her tongue sliding against his, her hands locking around his neck as she pressed herself closer against him, almost wanting to melt into him. Loving him as much as she did, she could resist him no more, he was the only air she needed to breathe right now.

Sensing her surrender and knowing it was time for the next step, his mouth left hers, trailing kisses down her jaw, suckling on her pulse point then back up until he reached her ear and said, "Be of my blood for I claim thee as my life's mate, for all eternity."

_W-what?!_ "I…" Her eyes filled with tears, this time happy ones when she saw love and reverence shining deeply in his azure gaze.

"You heard me…" he tilted his head, winking at her mischievously then kissing her lips again. "Then again, if you want me to repeat the words, say in another… much more private location and if you, by any chance, wanted to say them back, I'll be more than happy to… indulge you. Otherwise it wouldn't be fair, now would it?"

She didn't answer for a second, still too shell-shocked at learning he'd changed his mind, wanted to claim her until he asked her with a little less confidence at her lack of response…

"If you'll have me, that is?"

"I-I… what changed?"

"I realized I couldn't see my future without you in it." He caressed her cheek, ecstatic when she leaned into his hand then turned her head to kiss his palm. "What I've been doing all these years isn't living; perhaps it couldn't even be called existing. I was merely going through the motions. Pouring all of myself into my art so I didn't have to deal with my loneliness.

"That changed the very moment I saw you from across the room at the exhibit. I can't explain it other than… I felt alive for the first time in forever, drawn to you, to your smile, your laughter… everything about you. I couldn't take my eyes off you or think of anything except getting closer to bask in the light that radiated from you. And the more I got to know you, the deeper I fell under your spell, even though I foolishly thought I could give you up when the time came…" he laughed ruefully, shaking his head. "It was never was because I didn't love you enough… please, love, don't ever doubt how much I do?" He pleaded and relief washed over him when she nodded.

Her tears were now falling freely down her cheeks from his admission, all the pain from his rejection, all her lingering doubts melting like snow under the sun. He leaned in to kiss her sweetly, causing even more emotion to pour from her eyes from the tenderness he pressed upon her lips.

Taking a deep, shaky breath, he continued. "I don't want to hurt you… ever again. I love you, crave you, **need** you. You're everything I've ever wanted and more, so much more. You're my light, my sun. Say you will, darling, say you'll have me?"

"Y-yes," she whispered, throwing her arms back around him.

"Good Lord, finally!" Giles said from the front seat, a relieved sigh leaving his smiling lips.

Spike didn't even acknowledge him. Instead, he helped Buffy out of the car before picking her up in his arms and walking back towards the mansion.

"Does this mean you won't be needing a ride back?" the man bellowed after them, but his boss just kept on walking as if he hadn't heard him. And he probably didn't, he mused. They were too wrapped up in the other to notice anything but themselves. He kept watching them until they disappeared into the house. Anne would be very happy to learn of this latest development. Very happy indeed.

tbc

Well, your turn, did you like, dislike? Still want to kill me? While surprisingly it didn't take that long to write, it did take a lot out of me, so I'd love to know what you thought of it.

And before I forget, Reader's Choice Poll at Spark & Burn Awards is up, so if you're inclined to vote, be it for me or any of the wonderful authors/stories nominated, go to spark (dot) jaded (dash)paradise (dot) net (slash) vote (dot) php and please do so.

Hope you have a wonderful week!

Hugs,

Mari

Inalcanzable

RBD

Te siento tan distante y tan cerca a la vez

Descifrando, tu silencio

Y entonces me imagino dentro de tu piel

Pero pierdo, en el intento.

Y por mas que busco darte amor

Nunca te fijas en mi

Si supieras que puedo morir por ti, por ti.

I feel you so distant and so close at the same time

Deciphering, your silence

And then I imagine myself inside your skin

But I lose, in the intent.

And for all I try to give you love

You never notice me

If you only knew I would die for you, for you.

CORO

Inalcanzable como estrella tan distante

Un amor casi imposible,

Invisible como el aire,

Eres tan inalcanzable, tan sublime como un angel

Un amor casi imposible

Como fuego que no arde

Te me has vuelto inalcanzable, inalcanzable

Chorus

Unreachable like a star, so distant

An almost impossible love

Invisible like the wind

You're so unreachable, as sublime as an angel

An almost impossible love

Like fire that doesn't burn

You've turn unreachable for me, unreachable


	21. Chapter 21 Renaissance

Author's Note: After almost a month I finally finished this chapter, it took me longer than I expected, mostly because I lacked inspiration for it. Against All Odds came to save my muse from disappearing altogether, a welcome reprieve from RL stuff, which seems to finally be getting better. I want to thank each and every one of you who've taken the time to read this story, but especially to those who've reviewed. Your support, encouragement and patience throughout the story have been the fuel my muse has fed up from and I truly appreciate every one of your words from the bottom of my soul.

Thank you as well to my very lovely sister, IBE, without her this story wouldn't be half of what it is. Always encouraging me to try my very best, even when I thought I simply couldn't, even when I felt way over my head with it. I can't—and never will be able to—thank you enough for that and for everything, cariño. Love you to the end of the universe and back. hugs you tight

_Chapter 21. Renaissance_

Spike insisted on carrying her all the way back to the house, up the stairs, down the long hallway and finally to his room. Not like she was complaining, because what girl in her right mind would? To be able to feel his strong muscles flex with every move he made while she held on tightly to him, peppering his face and throat with kisses and small bites which made him hiss, moan and quicken his pace was just heavenly. Especially after being so sure she'd lost him for good. He'd come for her, though. And almost totaled the Bentley in the process, too, _poor Mr. Giles._

Maybe she overreacted… _just a tiny little bit,_ she rationalized. Still, after everything that happened in his room, after their argument, had he not come up with a grandiose gesture like this she probably wouldn't have believed him.

She was killing him, as certainly as if she had grabbed a stake and pierced his heart with it. _Buffy… the Vampire Slayer._ She'd definitely slayed **his** heart, only in a whole more pleasurable way. His eyes rolled back as she sucked on his throat, intent it seemed on driving him to the brink of insanity.

His grip around her tightened and he swallowed convulsively as he tried to school his ardor, at least until he got them to his room. Not an easy task when all he wanted was to take her **right** here, **right** now… Make her his before she came to her senses and changed her mind.

He didn't deserve her, but couldn't bring himself to care enough about that at the moment. She wanted to be his and that in itself was a bloody miracle, one he would have to give thanks for everyday of his unlife, for the duration of the life they'd begin together tonight.

Spike took a deep breath as he stopped in front of the door to his room, almost giving in to the temptation of taking her elsewhere. Anywhere, as long as it were untainted by the painful memories from just a short while ago.

She took the decision off his hands when, after relinquishing her mouth's hold on his earlobe where it had taken residency after wrecking havoc with his throat, she murmured, "Mmmmmm… take me to your bed. Because after tonight, I'm never leaving it… or you, ever."

How did she know? Was he that transparent? _Perhaps to her I am,_ he thought, _an open book for her to read._ "Damn right you're not, saucy minx," he answered, smirking at her before crossing the threshold.

All his self-assurance vanished as they entered his room, though. At being confronted with what **he** did. He lowered her to the floor carefully and then took a few steps back, putting his hands inside his pants' front pockets and looking downwards, while he toed the floor with his shoe.

Her heart skipped a beat at seeing him like that, so… lost, so bereft? "What's the matter, honey? Are you having… second thoughts?" _Please say no, please, please._

"No!" he said firmly, his eyes drifting back to hers, worried he might have given her the wrong expression. "No, never, love. It's just… I don't deserve this… you."

She moved forward, bringing her hand up to caress his jaw while drowning in his blue eyes. "Spike, this is not about deserving, this is about loving. I love you and I hope you love me?" He nodded and she smiled softly at him. "What happened before… it's in the past and as my mom used to say, there's no use crying over spilt milk."

He chuckled at that. "I would've loved to meet her. She sounds like a wonderful woman, just like her daughter."

"She would've liked you, I'm sure of that."

"A-and are you sure this is what you want? Because once I claim you… there's no goin' back, love."

"It's what I want… all I need… to be yours for eternity," she said in earnest.

"You're young. You could still change your mind. Eternity is a long time, sweetlin', I don't want you to ever regret what we're about to do."

"I won't. I love you and I'm sure of my feelings for you, sure they won't change. I realize we haven't known each other for long, but from the moment our eyes met across the gallery, I knew. I just knew you were the one."

She sounded so sure, so certain of her feelings. Her love for him shining brightly in her eyes, dripping in each and every one of her words and he knew it was possible she felt like that for it'd been the same for him. He'd known then, too, even if he tried to fool himself into thinking he'd be able to give her up when the time came. That all he wanted were memories of her to tide him by for the rest of his unlife. Like those would ever be enough after having her in his arms, after being inside her?

"I'll do everythin' in my power to make sure you never regret it, either," he vowed.

"Well, if you're planning on spoiling me rotten like you did today, I'd say we're off to a very good start."

"Every day of our lives if you want."

"Nah, every once in a while might be nice, but I didn't like being so far apart from you all day," she pouted.

He kissed her pout away before saying, "Far be it from me to reject a lady then." He grinned at her, looking mildly ashamed when she threw him a pointed look.

"I remember you rejecting me not even an hour ago," she teased, loving to see him squirm.

"That was different."

"Hah, different my ass."

Giving her a playful wink, he took advantage of her words to compliment on that fact. "And a very fine arse that is."

"Just fine?"

"Perfect, just like the rest of you." He took her in his arms, tilting his head to kiss her. "Perfect for me. My Buffy, my love, mine, all mine… mine."

She all but melted at his whispered words of possession. "All yours," she agreed, kissing him back before he pulled away, his eyes locking with hers as his tone grew gravely serious.

"You know what has to take place, don' you? What you'll need to do?"

"Yes, I do." The book had been quite graphic in its depiction of what went on during a mating. And while she had to accept that yes, it made her slightly uneasy to know he had to bite her and she had to bite him in turn, the thought of what it would mean for them overruled **most** of her nervousness.

"I will try not to hurt you, not to take too much blood. But if I do, if I… can' control myself, I need you to tell me, kick me, punch me, do whatever is needed… You have to, Buffy. Promise me that you can do that for me, please?" He'd sooner dust than bring any harm to her.

"Yes, I can, but I don't think I'll need to do anything of the sort. I trust you," she answered.

He sighed, hoping he was worthy of that trust. "Alright then, kitten, if you're sure…"

"I am," she declared, her eyes shining with love. "Now, what was that you said about repeating some words when we were in a much more… private location, hmmm?"

She started nibbling at his throat again while her hands trailed down his chest to unbutton his coat and vest. He tried to follow suit and lower the zipper of her dress but only managed to get his hands slapped for his efforts. She escaped his grasp with a giggle, shaking her finger 'no' while moving away.

"We do this my way, it's my turn now," she said, her eyes dancing with mischief as he all but pouted at her retreating form.

"And do I get a turn after?"

"Nope. Not unless I say so."

_Bossy chit,_ but he could deny her nothing. He should know that by now. So with a nod, he conceded to her wish.

She beamed, approaching him again, relieving him of his bowtie before unbuckling his belt and throwing it aside. Next, she pulled the crisp white shirt from his waistband and slowly, oh so very slowly, unbuttoned it, caressing and kissing every inch of alabaster skin revealed to her eyes with each button. She marveled again at the velvety softness of his flesh and how it contrasted with the hard muscles rippling underneath.

He could barely keep still under her ministrations. _Ministrations,_ he snorted, _torture is more like it!_ Perhaps this was her way of exacting revenge on him for what happened earlier? Because if it was, she'd both chosen and wielded her weapon of torment with deadly precision.

She moved behind him to take the shirt, vest and coat off him in one smooth movement, allowing it to drop to the floor without regard. Her eyes widened appreciatively as they set upon the naked expanse of his back, her hands coasting up and down the strong plains and contours with her fingertips before taking a step closer, rubbing her hardened nipples against him, delighting in the low growls that clawed at his throat.

She was already breathing harder, her heartbeat ricocheting off the roof and the delicious scent of her arousal permeated the air, making him hard as steel. How was he supposed to remain unmoving when she was doing all kinds of wicked things to him?

Her fingers dipped inside his waistband, trailing along as she walked around to face him again, mouth teasing his usually cold skin. Not today, though. She was heating him up in ways he'd never envisioned possible, teasing him to the point of madness.

And yet, he waited. What else could he do?

She popped the button of his trousers open and he held his breath as he waited for her to lower the zipper, to touch him where he was dying to be touched, to put him out of his misery.

Buffy knew exactly what she was doing, how it was affecting him. The huge bulge in his pants, the way his eyes were all but devouring her, the occasional twitch in his jaw, it was all quite obvious. And while she was dying to give him what he wanted, some sense of perverse mischievousness prevailed at the power she held over him. He'd made her wait until he decided it was time, now the tables had turned and she relished in the taunt.

She pushed him towards the bed, making him sit and then kneeling in front of him, took one foot at a time to gently pull off his shoes then socks, making sure she gave him the most tantalizing view of her chest during this slow process.

He swallowed… hard, his mouth suddenly dry as he pondered if he should say to hell with her wish and pounce on her or wait and see what she was planning to do to him. When she stood up, he tried grabbing her but she evaded him with another giggle. Slippery little thing, wasn't she?

"Bad Spikey," she pouted. "Just for that, I've decided you don't deserve a turn… but you can watch if you like."

She took a few steps away from the bed, swaying her hips enticingly from side to side, her hands trailing up and down her body sensuously before turning and presenting him with her back. She lowered the zipper of her dress, twisting her neck and head around to throw him a smoldering look and a kiss over her shoulder.

Her dress fell to the floor about the same time his jaw hit it as well. The lacy scrap of cloth that barely covered her… assets had him salivating. No, not covered, accentuated. She was truly a work of art and he couldn't wait until the moment he'd be allowed to touch her, kiss her, drown in her.

He just about came when she turned, though. Only the tremendous control he possessed over himself prevented him from disgracing himself like a pimply teenage boy. The black corset she was using barely covered her nipples, showing more than just a glimpse of the rosy peaks as they protruded impudently over the top of the fabric.

His eyes traveled over her breasts, down to her impossibly tiny waist, lower and lower until he settled on the front of her thong. He gulped… loudly. She truly wanted to kill him; there was no doubt in his mind now. Her panties were almost translucent, providing him with an enticing sight of what lay beneath. His hands itched to touch her, to explore, caress, kiss every crevice, valley and cleft he encountered.

Spike's reaction, so far, was everything she hoped for and more. His eyes alternated from the deepest shade of midnight blue to the fiery gold of blazing amber, like the deep orange hue of the setting sun right before it disappears. It was quite apparent he could barely keep himself or the demon in check. And that's exactly how she wanted him to be, on the edge, ready to lose every shred of control, lose himself to her, in her, give every bit of himself to her as she would to him.

She needed him to realize her trust was as infinite as her love. It would take time, though. Time, patience and love for him to finally see she wasn't afraid. Not of him. Not of anything which might happen between them. She never had been. For as much as she denied the little clues of his true nature until it all exploded in her face, she never denied what he made her feel. She, who ran away from every relationship in her life before him, had finally found what she was looking for when she least expected it. And it was just what she needed, too, someone who could love her and she could love in return, someone who would never leave her… and that someone was Spike.

"So, do you approve my choice of lingerie?"

"'Course I do. Can' wait to tear them off you as well." He leered at her, an impish twinkle in his eyes.

"You can't. With as much money as you spent on these, the least you can do is appreciate them."

"And believe me, love, I do appreciate them, but I'll appreciate them a whole lot more when they're lyin' on the floor and not hinderin' my view of your gorgeous body. I'm dyin' to touch you, drown in your sweetness, conquer every centimeter of you with my mouth, my hands, make you mine in every way possible. Will you let me, love?" he begged.

"Hmmm, depends." She tried to keep the smile off her face at the shocked look he threw her.

"Depends?" He tilted his head and raised an eyebrow at her. Had she changed her mind? "On what?"

She approached him then, settling one of her feet over the bed in between his open thighs, running her hand down her body before bending over her middle to give him yet another glimpse of what lay beneath the lacy bodice.

"Well, you have to let me make you mine in every way possible, too. Otherwise it wouldn't be fair, now would it?" she replied, repeating his words from when they were outside in the car; smiling when she noticed his attention was on anything but what she was saying.

He'd been torn between looking at her lovely breasts or at the golden expanse of naked flesh showcased by the strappy high-heeled sandals. But when she started caressing her calf upwards, her index finger seductively drawing over the crisscross pattern of the straps until she reached the buckle just below her knee, his eyes couldn't do anything but follow the path her finger was trailing. Then he heard her words and something snapped inside him.

"Eeeeeep!" Buffy squealed when she suddenly found herself on her back pinned under the body of a **very** aroused vampire. She blinked at him, slightly dazed by the speed in which he subdued her. Small shivers of desire coursed through her body, fanning the fire which kept spreading deep within her, threatening to consume her as she drowned in the blue ocean of his eyes.

He'd been willing to let her set the pace of their loving, but there was only so much teasing a man could endure before he'd self-combust, now wasn't there?

He lowered his head until their lips were only a breath away. "Vixen! You know perfectly well what you're doin' to me, don' you?" he asked, grinding his hard length against her to show her exactly how much he'd been affected by her playful striptease. "And just so you know, while I don' want anythin' between us, sweetheart, these…" he purred, his hand moving downwards until he felt the leathery strips underneath his fingertips. "You can definitely keep on."

He kissed her then, heatedly, passionately, swallowing her heady moans into his mouth; his fingers tugging blindly on the laces keeping her bodice together until her breasts spilled out into his waiting hands. His mouth charted down the slender column of her throat, biting and nipping at her flesh. His lips kept going lower and lower until he captured a turgid nipple between them, his tongue curling around it, nursing, licking and sucking, driving her—and himself—closer and closer to paradise.

She felt every pull of his mouth, every nibble, every caress burning a fiery path to her core, a new gush of liquid coating the already sodden fabric of her panties. Her fingers wound in his hair and her legs wrapped around his hips, pulling him closer as she writhed under him.

"So beautiful. My Buffy, mine," he stated.

"Y-yours," she agreed. As if there could be any doubt about that when she was a quivering, trembling mess in his arms, begging him silently to take what was his?

He stood up and quickly disposed of his pants while Buffy moved back to the middle of the bed, getting rid of her corset before beckoning him with her finger and a seductive smile.

Spike crawled towards her, kneeling in front of her when he reached her, taking one dainty foot in his hands and planting wet, open-mouthed kisses up her leg. Once he reached her center, he made a show of inhaling deeply before ripping her panties off her body with a flick of his wrist.

"Gorgeous," he murmured, entranced by the sight of her before lowering his head to lick her from top to bottom. "Mmmmmmmm," he moaned in pure rapture as her tangy flavor exploded on his taste buds. She was so wet already, tasted so sweet.

She loved him going down on her, it made her feel… cherished, adored. But as much as she loved it, she desired something else now. The time for playing and teasing and waiting was over, she just wanted him inside her, taking her, branding her as his.

Buffy tugged on his hair and finally managed to make him look at her. "I need you… inside of me, please. I want, I need… you, all of you, right now."

He didn't need to be told twice, so with one last kiss to her clit, he moved upwards until they were face to face. "Never let it be said that I don't give my lady whatever she desires," he declared with a devilish smirk as he rubbed the head of his cock against her moist folds, coating it with her honey.

She would have answered him… if she could have, but she was too busy concentrating on this moment, committing every detail of every second to memory to be able to think straight. Feeling his erection part her labia, she braced herself as he oh-so-slowly entered her, stretching her inch by agonizing inch until he filled her to the point of bursting.

"Bloody hell… so tight, so warm. Fit me like a glove, you do," he babbled, mindless with lust.

He stilled once he was firmly encased within her velvety heat, giving her time to adjust to his size, giving **himself** the time to control his demon's urge to spill inside her snug channel. It wasn't time yet, though, he had a lot to give her first, and so much more.

He began rocking against her, leisurely pumping his length in and out of her silken heaven; gradually pulling his thick cock all the way out except for the tip before easing it back in, over and over in the same torturous and unhurried rhythm. Loving the way her walls tightened around him each time he withdrew, the way she locked her legs around his waist, her hips rising in protest whenever he retreated as if wishing to imprison him inside her body. And by God what he wouldn't give to remain hostage within her scalding depths.

Buffy's eyes widened with every new rush, every new thrill coursing through her body, swiftly building and building inside of her, even more so when he tilted his hips and changed the angle of his thrusts, hitting her in all the right places. Spots danced in front of her eyes, her inner muscles fluttering without warning, squeezing him as she reached the ultimate pleasure, his name on her lips barely an audible whisper… "William."

He pulled her upright to sit on his lap, his hands guiding her movements at first before allowing her set the pace of their lovemaking for a bit, not even giving her time to recover before her need started spiraling out of control all over again.

Spike reveled in the little mewling noises she made, in the way her hips ground flush against him, moving in a figure eight pattern. He kept on pumping slowly away as she rippled around him, lowering his mouth to pay homage to her rosy peaks, first one then the other to worship her like the goddess she was.

She never knew, never imagined pleasure like this was possible. It was raw, it was real. It was love in its purest form. Enveloping her, them, in a cloud of overwhelming yearning which grew thicker and thicker with each passing second. Desire coiled and twisted inside her womb, tighter and tighter until it burst in a maelstrom of sensations, of feelings which left her panting, sobbing her release, clinging to him as she begged him to make her his.

He tried to keep up the pace he'd set, but there was only so much restraint he could exercise over himself. And her words, the way her body responded to his, the way she melted around his shaft, pouring all of herself into their loving… it was simply more than he could bear. Pushing her onto her back again, his movements became slightly frantic, more urgent, needing more, giving her more.

Wrapping her legs around his waist, she pulled him in every time he pushed away from her, her heels digging on his buttocks every single time; her hands mapping up and down his back; her eyes widening with each new rush that coursed through her body. Her blood boiled inside her veins, calling for him, anticipating the moment it'd mingle with his, when they finally became one. Higher and higher he took her, and just when she thought there was no place left to go, nothing else to reach, he took her above and beyond an invisible barrier to a realm of ecstasy that stole her breath away… Could one die from too much pleasure?

The moist haven of her body felt like home, his home. His and his alone. The hold over his demon slipped further and further away the closer he came to reaching his orgasm. And while before he'd been afraid he wouldn't be able to keep the creature in check, he now knew his fear was unnecessary. He loved, desired and craved to possess her as his mate with every fiber of his being.

"Mine, mine, mine, mine, MINE!" he chanted as he thrust in and out of her, his demon coming to the forefront at last, amber gaze locking with emerald green eyes shining back at him with trust and love.

"Yours, oh God, all yours." She tilted her head to the side, offering him the chalice of her neck, putting her life, her love and all she was in his hands to do with as he pleased. She wasn't scared, didn't hesitate for even a second. There was no room for second-guessing herself or her decision. There'd never be.

He stared deeply into her eyes, humbled by her faith in him. Vowing to himself he'd do right by her if it killed him, he kissed her. A sweet, featherlike caress designed to show her the depth of his love, of his commitment to her.

Spike's mouth peppered wet, open-mouthed kisses down her neck, nipping at her pulse point, sucking on it, bringing her blood closer to the surface before finally piercing through her golden flesh. One, two, three pulls, every one she felt travel all the way to her pussy, sending her careening towards the edge one more time, her vaginal walls contracting around him in tandem to each before she heard him say…

"Be of my blood for I claim thee as my life's mate, for all eternity."

Buffy felt the power of his bite swirling around her as he spoke the last word, completing and changing her in ways she never envisioned. A thousand tingles erupted from the place where his fangs branded her as his, his roughened tongue studiously lapping at the twin puncture marks now adorning her neck, proclaiming to the world she was his.

And he was hers. **Hers!** Or would be as soon as she returned his words.

Without a second thought, she sunk her teeth into the flesh of his throat with all her might, breaking through the skin as deeply as she could until she savored the coppery taste of his blood filling her mouth. She swallowed his essence, drank him down, feeling it blend with hers before pulling back to repeat the words which would inexorably tie their lives together for the rest of time, "Be of my blood for I claim thee as my life's mate, for all eternity."

As white hot pleasure crashed down upon him, Spike roared his mate's name to the heavens, head held high, fangs bared and eyes glowing as he pulled her body harshly into his thrusts, his hips pumping fiercely to push them both past the brink of euphoria into the sweetest of oblivions.

The air crackled with the sizzling energy surging from within each of them… intertwining, spiraling, coiling tighter and tighter together, merging until they were one. Colors appeared brighter, scents richer, every sense enhanced as the ritual bound them together. Every rush, every caress, every single kiss intensified from the emotions flowing freely through their connection. Pleasure rose higher and higher, feelings reached deeper and deeper until everything exploded around in the swirling vortex of their impassioned union, pulsing outward in binding waves of love and ecstasy unknown to any mortal.

tbc

I'm crying like a baby right now, I've been so wrapped up in this story ever since that moment in which I lay eyes on the banner that first time, ever since my muse whispered the first sentence to me, and it's been such a wonderful and fulfilling journey through which I've laughed, cried, rambled, but above all loved these characters so very much that I guess I simply can't not cry.

One more chapter after this one, I think. Unless muse decides another thing, which of course, knowing her it's possible. ;) When will it be posted, though, is the question. So I just beg you patience.

Your turn now, I'd love to know what you thought of the chapter if you're inclined to tell me.

Hope you have a wonderful week,

Hugs,

Mari


	22. Chapter 22 Classical Art

Author's Note: Thank you very much to everyone who reviewed the last chapter, I'm glad Spike and Buffy's perfect night met up with your expectations. Un millón de gracias a mi hermanita, IBE, without her this story wouldn't be what it is. I don't have words to tell you how much you mean to me and how much I appreciate all your help with this story. Te amo, cariño. (besos) Thank you as well to the wonderful Deanna, Tammy, MarzBar and Sotia, all who in several occasions stepped into the plate to help me iron out details, edit or assure me what my muse had planned out was appropriate for the story. Really couldn't have done it without your support, ladies. (snuggles)

_Chapter 22. Classical Art_

Buffy woke up just before dawn with a start, afraid the night before had been nothing but a dream only to find herself enfolded in her still sleeping mate's embrace. She stayed there for a few minutes, basking in the wonderful feeling of being in his arms, of knowing this magnificent man was hers and she was his, before it became imperative for her to get up.

Slowly, careful not to wake him, she untangled from his arms and went to the bathroom to freshen up. Once done, she returned to the room picking up his shirt from where it lay on the floor and bringing it to her nose to smell his tantalizing aroma before putting it on. Earthy and powerful and so his, his scent surrounded her, making her body respond to it—to him—much to her surprise.

She was sore, pleasantly so, in all the right places. A soft, secret smile bloomed on her lips as she recalled exactly how it was that she'd come to be this tender. Spike had made love to her over and over again until their bodies surrendered to sleep a little while ago; he'd made her his in every sense of the word until her body hummed with pleasure with just one touch, one look, one kiss. And it seemed just one whiff of his masculinity was enough to get her worked up all over again, too. Not that she was complaining.

Not at all.

Stealing a glance at Spike and noticing he was still asleep, she walked to the French doors to witness the dawn rapidly approaching, soft tendrils of light starting to appear in the east, calling to her. She opened the door, stepping out onto the terrace, taken aback by the beauty of it all.

Scents, colors, sounds, tastes, everything seemed different now. More vivid, brighter, richer, fuller than ever before, almost as if she were experiencing it all for the first time… and perhaps she was.

She felt something changing inside her as soon as he'd claimed her, even more so once she completed the bond. She wasn't the same woman anymore; she was **his** woman, his mate, it was only natural things wouldn't remain the same. How they had changed exactly she wasn't sure, the book hadn't contained all that much information on the after effects of a vampire/human matings, other than her lifeline was now linked with his and, of course, she wouldn't have it any other way.

Buffy was completely attuned to him, to whatever he was feeling. And it made their lovemaking even more passionate, more intense. With every rush, every shiver, every caress, she'd 'felt' his reaction as well as her own, heightening the experience in ways she never envisioned. Making her feel loved, complete, secure in the knowledge this was something only they shared and would continue sharing for as long as their forever would be.

The warmth of the new day enveloped her as the sun rose in the horizon to bathe everything in light. But despite its splendor, a deep sadness surged within her as she realized this was the one thing she might never share with him, with Spike.

Sighing dejectedly, she turned to go inside, gasping when she noticed the daylight had followed her through the door she'd carelessly left open, a small patch illuminating the alabaster skin of his chest.

Horrified that her thoughtlessness could cause him any pain and concerned over his well-being, she slammed the door shut before running to his side, tears spilling from her eyes as she tried to determine if he was alright, if he hadn't been hurt by the sunlight. She couldn't lose him, not like this, not now.

"Spike? William? Tell me you're okay, please?" she pleaded, shaking his shoulder lightly to wake him, trying not to touch him anywhere else in case she hurt him even worse. To her untrained eyes, it appeared as if nothing was wrong, but she couldn't be sure, unknowing as she was to the exact effect sunlight had on a vampire.

He was experiencing the most blissful dream, a dream in which he and Buffy were able to walk side by side in the sun. And bloody hell, it was so realistic he'd even felt the sun warming his flesh… until he was physically jerked from his peaceful slumber. He immediately heard his mate's cries, sensed her sorrow coursing through their bond and instinctively reached out to grab the hand on his shoulder, pulling at it and causing Buffy to lose her balance and tumble onto the mattress beside him.

"Buffy? What's the matter, love?" he asked, lazily opening his blue eyes to fix them upon her tearful face, his hand coming up to lightly caress her cheek. He tried to gauge what might have happened through their connection, but her thoughts were too jumbled, too tangled to really make any sense of them. That was enough to make him fully awake. "What's wrong?"

"Are you alright?" He seemed to be, but was he really?

"Of course I am, why wouldn' I be?" he replied, mystified by the way she was acting. "Did you have a nightmare, is that it?"

"N-no. It's just—" She shook her head to clear it, she could feel him, could feel he was unharmed. But it couldn't be, shouldn't be, unless… "What happens when you come into contact with direct sunlight?"

"Why do you ask, love?" He tilted his head, his brow furrowed as he tried to understand why she was asking him such a question.

"Just… humor me, please?"

"Well, the one time my hand was directly exposed to it, my skin started to smoke and while I pulled it away as soon as I felt it, it still left me with a second degree burn. Why?"

"I-I," she observed the unmarred expanse of his chest, hope growing inside her that her suspicions might be right before her eyes settled on his again. "Do you trust me?"

"With my life, you know that." He was puzzled by her behavior, confused that he couldn't really 'read' her since her moods kept changing before he had a chance to. But he became even more bewildered by what she did next.

Standing up swiftly—lest her courage abandoned her—she pulled him up and led him to the French doors, her heart beating so fast she felt almost dizzy. She wasn't about to push him outside, it was just a little test to see if she was right. If she had changed, there was good reason to believe he had changed as well.

With a reassuring smile, she opened the door just a sliver, pulling his hand toward the otherwise deadly rays while holding her breath.

He resisted for only a second; every instinct, every fiber of his being rebelling against what she intended to do. But the way she was looking at him, the expectation shining in her emerald depths and the bubbly enthusiasm blending with her nervousness made it difficult for him to deny her anything she asked, even something that could potentially endanger him. He trusted her, though. There had to be something escaping his mental grasp, something she knew that he didn't.

With a resigned sigh, he closed his eyes, allowing her to tug on his hand until he felt the warmth of the sun tickle his flesh, waiting for the moment in which his limb would start to char.

That moment never came.

_What the hell?_ His eyes popped open in complete disbelief to observe the light bathing his skin, astonishment washing over his features when even more of his flesh came in contact with it when she opened the door a little more and still he wasn't set ablaze.

"W-what? H-how?" he rasped, looking from his hand to her eyes and back again.

"I don't know. I imagine it has something to do with the claim, though." She led him out to the terrace, exhaling a relieved sigh when it was obvious he wouldn't burn to ashes.

He followed her, still cautious, not quite certain this wasn't a ploy designed by the PTB to mess with his unlife now that he finally had a reason other than art to exist for. After all, it wasn't everyday a vampire found himself immune to daylight.

She looked so beautiful under the sun's rays waiting for him to join her, even more so than he ever imagined, than he could ever have pictured. Luminous, radiant… effulgent. He'd been right when he saw her first across the room at the Royal Academy. He'd known even then that her inner glow would chase away the shadows that surrounded him; well, either that or burn him until he was dust. And she had done it. Because of her, he'd stepped out of the shadows into the light, into **her** light.

Buffy extended her hand towards him, melting against him when he pulled her into his embrace. She almost couldn't believe it'd been only a handful of hours ago when her world had crumbled to pieces with his rejection and now… now she stood here, with him, lost in his azure gaze, drowning in him, the perfect rapture of his love washing over her, sharing something that just a few minutes ago seemed impossible. Something her love, their love had somehow made possible.

They stayed out on the terrace for a few more minutes, just enjoying each other's company, basking in the rising sun until Buffy's stomach rumbled; reminding him she never ate dinner the night before. With an indulgent smile, he insisted on a breakfast picnic by the lake, knowing if he suggested taking a shower together first, they'd never get out of the room. He put his pants on and accompanied her back to her room telling her he would pick her up in half an hour.

----------

Exactly thirty minutes later, Spike knocked on her door. Vampiric speed truly came in handy, especially after spending at least twenty of those thirty minutes explaining to the Giles that no, he wasn't insane or suicidal for wanting to picnic with his lady on the lake during the day. How could he be when he had everything he'd ever wished for?

Having Buffy in his life was a miracle all in itself, that she had accepted—_actually instigated_—to become his mate was a bloody revelation, a precious gift, but to be able to share with her something he thought he never could… to be able to walk in the sun, hand in hand with her, it was nothing short of divine, just like the dream he'd had this morning before she woke him.

Anne and Giles were ecstatic, or at least Anne had been, Giles still moping over the loss of his beloved Bentley until Spike promised he'd buy a new one… and would send the other back to the dealership to be repaired no matter the cost and when it was fixed, it would be a personal present to the chauffer.

He owed them both so much, more than he'd ever be able to pay them back for. If Anne hadn't talked some sense into him the night before, if Giles hadn't stalled Buffy from leaving until the last possible minute, if he had lost her because of his stubbornness…

"If, if, if… please, honey! You can't spend the rest of **our** lives wondering what if, now can you?"

He blinked at Buffy. When had she opened the door and how had she… had he spoken aloud?

"That's for me to know and for you to find out," she responded mysteriously, winking at him, her eyes filled with mischief before she started walking towards the staircase.

Buffy was having too much fun with him being so obviously confounded to reveal the few things she'd learned during the half hour she spent alone in her room. After all, it would be **so** much better if he discovered them on his own.

"What do you—" he started, trailing after her but when he reached the staircase, she was already gone. _Huh…_ strange, very strange.

---------

"What took you so long?" Buffy asked with a raised eyebrow as soon as he crossed the threshold to the kitchen.

He knew there was something wrong with this picture. With her already sitting at the table, chatting animatedly with Anne as if she'd been waiting hours for him instead of just the minute or so it took him to snap out of his surprise and follow her. The problem lay in discovering what the hell wasn't right with this picture.

Oh, he would find out. He might need a little more time to figure it out, but ultimately he **would** find out what it was. Of this he was sure.

Buffy shared a conspiring smile with Anne at Spike's noticeable perplexity. He'd been so centered on all that was happening to him, he hadn't focused on her yet. Not really, not in a way where he would realize he wasn't the only one different. But he would… soon, very soon.

"Alright," Anne said, closing the lid of the basket she'd set on the table. "Food is ready. Will you be back in time for lunch? Because if you are, I can prepare you someth—"

"No, Anne, don' worry about us. You and Giles go visit your friend. Buffy and I will probably stay in the meadow until after sunset anyway."

"Yeah, and I can fix us something later if we come back sooner." Buffy grinned, feeling a lot more confident in her cooking skills than she really ever had before. She wasn't as good as Anne, but with any luck she would find something in the refrigerator she could work with and not burn.

"Alright, but only if you two are sure. Giles and I can change our plans with Ethan for some other day if you need us."

"And I already told you we won't need you. I think we can survive for one day without you and judgin' by how much this basket weighs, I think we could stay at the meadow for a week and not need for anythin'," he said with a twinkle in his eye before leaning down to kiss Anne on the cheek. "Have fun, and don' do anythin' I wouldn'."

Oh yes, Anne intended to have much fun today. She was not usually the kind to enjoy the sort of visit she and Rupert planned to indulge in with Ethan, but when he finally told her everything about what the big oaf had done to Buffy and the very fitting punishment he and his very good pal, Ethan, would exact on Riley, she'd insisted on participating as well. She couldn't be blamed though, she loved Buffy like the daughter she never had and anyone who dared harm her family in any way would pay for it dearly. Mr. Finn was about to discover the darker side of Buffy's extended family and she simply couldn't wait.

"Well, that certainly leaves me a lot of room to play then, doesn't it?" Anne responded, laughing heartily at Spike's growl.

"Now, sweetie, be nice to Anne." Buffy patted his arm condescendingly, winking at the older woman.

"Yes, sweetie, be nice with me and remember you made me a promise."

"Like I could forget," he grumbled. He definitely wasn't looking forward to telling Buffy of Riley's fate, but Anne was right, she deserved to know. Hopefully she wouldn't care over what happened to the wanker.

----------

"What a fantastic day! Birds singin', squirrels makin' lots of rotten little squirrels. Sun beamin' down in a nice, non-fatal way. It's very excitin'. I can' wait to see if I freckle," Spike said, a huge smile lighting his face as they strolled through the garden after deciding to just walk towards the lake.

"You're adorable."

"'M not adorable," he mumbled, pouting slightly, looking every part the petulant toddler.

"Oh yes, you are." She kissed his pout away, moaning when he banded his arms around her and pulled her flush to his body. "Mmmmm, much as I like this, before we continue, I want to know what you promised Anne to tell me." She pushed away from him and sat on a stone bench patting the space next to her.

He looked at her dazedly. "How did you—"

"Anne told me."

"'Course she did," he sighed, knowing he had no other choice but tell her now. "Alright, I know when 'm defeated. You heard Anne and Rupert are visitin' a friend today, didn' you?" She nodded, looking at him curiously. "What you don' know is that their friend is the director of Bedlam." At her blank look, he continued, "I take it you haven't heard of Bedlam?"

She shrugged nonchalantly. "Nope, sorry. Should I?"

"No, I guess it's just not as known in America as it is here. Bedlam is a mental illnesses facility, love. It was sort of infamous due to the cruel treatments performed on their patients durin' past times."

"And what does that have to do with me?" She tilted her head to the side to study him.

"Nothin', or well, I'll let you be the judge of that. The thing is…" He swallowed nervously, he hadn't anticipated telling her would be this hard. "It turns out the bloody pillock, er, Finn, ended up bein'… hmmm, taken there after that night. He was ravin' about monsters and things that go bump in the night and it was determined he suffered from an, ahem, rare form of delirium tremens and will have to undergo treatment for it there… for an indefinite amount of time."

"Aah, I see." Not that she minded, knowing Riley would be locked up in some medieval torture hospital did wonders for her peace of mind. He could remain there forever for all she cared.

"Is that all you're goin' to say?" He was beyond stunned by her, well, lack of reaction. He'd expected her to be a lot less… accepting.

"Well, would you rather have me running to… Bedlam, was it?" He nodded. "And save Riley from what I hope will be a fate worse than death? Because right now. I'm not feeling all that charitable towards him. Not after what he did."

"Not that 'm complainin', but… I don't understand."

"I told you before, honey, but it seems you weren't listening all that well to me," she teased him. "There was only one monster in that room that night and it wasn't you… it would never be you." She kissed him lightly on the lips before standing up from the bench and starting walking backwards in the general direction to the lake. "You know, Mr. Wellington, I think I'm up for a little game of tag now."

_So, baby wants to play, does she?_ he smirked. "You know you can' win agains' me, love." But even if she didn't stand a chance, that didn't mean it wouldn't be fun. He loved a good chase, especially when she was the prey.

"Oh darling, I think you're about to be very, **very** surprised," she said before turning on her heel and taking off at breakneck speed.

"What the bleedin' hell?" He shook his head to clear it. Of course, if **he** had changed, it was only logical she had as well.

"What, the itty bitty vampire can't catch me now?" she mocked him from the edge of the garden. "You're getting slow in your old age, honey."

"I'll show you who's old, minx," he muttered under his breath and grew even more astounded when she responded…

"Perhaps you will, if you **ever** caught me… but at the moment that doesn't seem too likely, does it?" She loved goading him, seeing him obviously stunned as he discovered some of her newer… traits, was just too good for words.

"Now, that bloody does it! This is war," he said before following her.

She ran off towards the meadow, her bubbly laughter filling the air as they played. He just about caught her a few times but she evaded every one of his efforts. _Slippery little thing, isn't she?_ he thought when she escaped from his grasp yet again.

There was something cathartic about playing like this. To be carefree and happy, like a child. He felt new, revitalized and perhaps it was because he was a new man now. A much different man than he was when he first met her. And it was all because of her.

Once they got to the lake, he dropped the picnic basket to the ground and began pursuing her in earnest, until he finally trapped her against a tree trunk.

"You were sayin', love?" he purred in her ear, delighting in the shiver he felt running down her spine, the delicious aroma of her arousal wafting beneath his nostrils and making him painfully hard, even more so than their little game had.

"You only caught me because I **let** you," she huffed good-naturedly, leaning against him. This was perfection. Being like this, with him… forever. And even that would never be long enough.

"Sure, Miss Summers. If you say so." He grabbed her hand and led her to where he left the basket. "Now, what do you say to doin' justice to the banquet Anne prepared for us and then we can see what other little surprises you have in store for me, hmmm?"

"It's a deal, Mr. Wellington."

Fin

mravensblood Art-Before-Fic Challenge entry:

Characters: Spike, Buffy, Any  
Rating: R - NC-17  
Season/Episode: (if specific) AU  
Must Have:  
1) Spike is a vampire, but Buffy is not a slayer.  
2) Can be any time era past or present.  
3) Spike must bite Buffy and she must want him to.  
Can Have:  
1) Buffy becoming a vampire.  
2)  
3)  
Can't Have:  
1) Faith  
2) Dawn  
3) Spike or Buffy dying.

I think I actually met the requirements, even if it didn't hit me until the lovely IBE returned this chapter to me and pointed it out, that this is the last chapter of the story.

I don't know how I feel about it; right now I'm more thunderstruck I actually finished this story. Not that this is the end of this 'verse because I have a few other scenes I want to write as an epilogue of sorts. I love the characters too much, to let them go completely, so I was thinking of writing a series of one-shots showing them in different situations throughout the years or something like that. So if you have any ideas you'd like me to explore contact me through the site and I'll do my best to include them.

Again I want to thank each and every one of you who joined me in this story, be it right from the start, in the middle or now that it's finished. You don't know how much your support and your very kind words have meant to me.

Hugs,

Mari


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